Emeth

The Hourglass Order

Who Can Know It?

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Zenobucks - Before Castaway

It had been a while since Ayla last saw Raffaella, and for some reason, the girl kept occupying her thoughts. She wondered what she was up to, how the kitties were doing, and as she passed by some sweets, she wondered if Raffie would enjoy them. She was certainly fond of the girl, though every time Raffie came to mind, all she could remember was that embarrassing scene where she fed her, recalling how happy Raffie looked. It made Ayla feel horrible, as if she was a monster. It was even worse when she bumped into Raffie at the Soiree, and the conversation seemed to revolve around Asier this, Asier that. Ayla tuned out of the conversation and couldn't bring herself to confess the truth.

She knew what she must do: invite Raffie out for a date. Ayla wanted to sit her down, clear the air, and address all those embarrassing misunderstandings. It was time to face the truth, and she hoped Raffie would be as sweet and forgiving as she looked.

Ayla proceeded to write a handwritten invitation for the two of them to meet up at the local Zenobucks, kitties welcomed.

"Kitties welcome, huh?" Raffaella pondered as she read her one and only letter that wasn't a piece of "fan mail." Well, it was a private invitation, but Ayla was actually a friend, so this was a special exception☆

"I guess a coffee shop can't be that bad if they allow kitties, and sell sweets~" she decided as she jogged on over to the local Zenobucks, her Zaqhorian Sphinx hot on her hot pink heels.

"Heya Ayla~" she chirped as she burst through the door, her chatty Sphinx sauntering over to Ayla's table, "mrrp-mrrping" as he went.

Ayla smiled widely as the kitty was excited to meet them, her own Zaqhorian Sphinx, Gisele, excitedly met with her brother as they purred happily together. She waved excitedly toward Raffie as she called her over, with a coffee and plate of different vibrant-coloured macaroons ripe for the picking.

Ayla hopped from her chair as she went to give her friend a hug, “Wow, have you got taller since we last met?” She compared the height, then realized she was wearing hot pink heels, giggling a little.

“We are very pleased that you came,” she indicated towards the table for them to sit together.

Raffie spoiled Gisele with back scritches as the siblings nuzzled each other. Then, she turned to Ayla to give her friend her requisite hug. "Ahaha, nope~ I haven't gotten taller in years." Staying still as Ayla compared their heights, they were almost exactly the same, with Raffie having the advantage of heels. "Heehee~! I'm so happy you're the same, Ayla. People are acting so weird lately. It's all... how would you say? There's this... frosty layer of doom and gloom." She popped a pastel pink macaroon into her mouth and smiled.

Ayla enjoyed seeing the girl, a smile spreading, "Is pink your favourite colour? You always look very pretty in it." She made sure to greet her sphinx warmly with scritches too, then left the pair of siblings together as she indicated to the seats. "We agree, it is nice to share a pleasant moment together." She went to sit at the table, noticing a pink macaroon on her own plate, "Oh, we have one here too!" She picked it up instinctively and enthusiastically brought it to Raffie's lips, then felt a light blush grow on her cheeks as she realized what she just did.

Raffie looked around the cafe, with shifty eyes. Then, she leaned in towards Ayla. "Just between you and me... it's red. Don't tell anyone!" she insisted, hastily shushing her dining partner to emphasize the point. Nomming the pink macaroon, she smiled. Of course, that wasn't what she'd told "Asier."

Ayla mouthed an "oh" as she instinctively twirled a finger through her red hair. "Mine is blue," she said, and as she spoke, it seemed like her sapphire blue eyes sparkled much like Raffie's usually did. She fidgeted with her fingers for a moment before focusing on the macaroons again, spotting a blue one. "These are blueberry flavoured, we hope you find them to be pleasant." She brought it to Raffie's lips again, almost without thinking. The problem was, she was thinking too much about a certain boy herself.

Raffie paused as Ayla went to feed her a third macaroon, when she herself had none yet. Woah. Déjà vu, she thought, suddenly keenly aware of Ayla's posture as she was feeding her. She picked up a blue macaroon and held it out to Ayla. "You tell me!" She grinned.

Ayla felt her cheeks redden as she leaned forward to take a tentative bite of the blueberry macaron. It was delicious; after all, she did her best when baking them. Her lips spread wider as they enclosed around the snack, and inadvertently, one of Raffie's digits, which she released after a light suckle on the tip of it. She quickly fetched a napkin to her lips and covered her mouth, looking away shyly. "It is... delicious," she mumbled.

"Mhm, cute," she agreed, narrowing her eyes deviously. Then, after about five solid seconds, she realized what she said. Her cheeks turned pink, but she decided to pretend not to notice that she misspoke. "So! Um... What did you do after the party? Sorry for leaving so suddenly. I tried to talk to someone and uh, it didn't go well, you could say."

Ayla felt that funny fluttering feeling, especially as she was confronted with such a question. "No, that's okay. We tried to speak with someone too, and we were left with mixed feelings," she said, her voice slightly shaky. She moved her hand to hold onto Raffie's for a moment, seeking comfort in the touch, then continued, "We need your advice."

She started to fidget with the held hand, her nerves palpable. "You know, like those stories where the hero is in disguise, and they fall in love with a girl? Have you ever considered what happened afterwards? Maybe the hero really loved her, but could she accept him for who he is, or did he simply abandon her, return to his job, and leave her heartbroken? What if she didn't recognize him, and they became close again? Should he tell her the truth?"

She breathed out, releasing Raffie's hand, her eyes searching for understanding."This dilemma is vexing us. The novels do not cover what one should do in these circumstances."

Raffie tilted her head, chin perched on her free wrist as Ayla confided in her. Huuh. So that's how it is. Another girl who likes girls. Constantians sure are bold... asking a Virangish girl for advice. Is this what it feels like to be a big sister? she mused. I would've been a good older sister. Thanks, worthless dad of mine. She smiled as always while she brushed away the thought. "Oh, Ayla," Raffaella sighed as she squeezed the girl's hand fondly. She's soo~ obvious. I can feel her heartbeat through her fingers. Maidens in love are so adorable☆

"If you wanted me to pray for your success in love, you didn't need to bribe me with sweets." She smiled warmly, and before Ayla could protest, the rosary was on the table, and she was speaking Virangish faster than Ayla could follow. Before she knew it, the ritual was done, and she'd tucked the rosary back into the collar of her dress.

"A secret love is no good! Love takes many forms, but it's only beautiful if both parties are aware and accepting of it, you know? Besides, if you don't confess, she'll be swept off her feet by someone else before you know it." She nodded sagely. "If you were only hiding who you were, and not who you were, then it's no wonder you still got close to them, yeah? So it's easy to just tell them. But if you were pretending to be something you're not, you'll have to beg forgiveness and a chance to start over. Otherwise, if she still thinks that person exists, not only are you living a lie, you're competing with yourself." She squeezed Ayla's hand once more before letting go. "That's what I think." She smiled.

Ayla paused for a moment, feeling frozen and flustered. "No, you misunderstood. We knew you read romance novels," she clarified, her voice slightly shaky. She held the girl's hand for a moment, then let go, a nervous habit of hers. "Perhaps we should have been clearer from the start."

She moved her hand to scratch the sphinx cat behind its ears, seeking some comfort in the familiar action as the cat nudged its head against her hand. Taking a deep breath, she decided to be more direct. "Raffie, call it intuition, but you like Asier, right?" She looked into Raffie's sparkling eyes as she asked the question directly.

Raffie searched Ayla's eyes and pondered. "Ooh? So he was smitten after all, and he never left Ersand'Enise. This friend of yours." She nodded along as she put the pieces together. "He's a sweet boy. And a gentleman. But like him, I don't really have the luxury of choosing who I get to marry." She smiled apologetically to Ayla, thinking she would be the bearer of bad news to the man. "Well, that's how it is. The adults who 'know better' are gonna tell us what to do." Even as she said it, she didn't seem particularly bothered by the notion.

"Well, not quite," Ayla began, her voice soft as she moved her hands to hold Raffie's. "We're sorry we lied to you. We didn't know how to tell you, but…" She released one hand to flick her red hair to the side, a nervous gesture. "We are Asier." She squeezed Raffie's hands gently, her eyes pleading for forgiveness. "You've become important to me since that day, and as we've got to know each other better, we didn't want this to be a thing between us. After all, who else enjoys sweets and likes cats almost as much as we do?"

Raffaella's eyes widened, and they seemed uncharacteristically cold—even a bit distant, as though she were thinking about something else entirely.

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"No. Outside! Now!"

"But he's hurt! Someone kicked him!"

"We're NOT keeping him. Put him out!"

"HE'LL STARVE!"

"SO WILL YOU IF YOU DON'T DO AS I SAY!"

Little Raffie's blood ran cold. Her eyes turned cold. Her heart shriveled like a prune as she realized this hell of an orphanage had drained her soul dry as the street on a Dorrad day. The cat mewled in protest as it was placed outside in the rain, unable to stand up on its own legs. Raffie placed it on the red stones. She remembered the red stones vividly. She knew the stones had always been a dull grey.

The sound went on for what felt like hours. It was horrible. At some point, the nun returned to the door, giving little Raffie some fleeting hope before the cat went quiet mid-cry. When she thought she had no more tears to cry, she quietly sobbed for hours after that. How could she be so cruel? She should have taken the cat and run away with it—such was the mind of a child. In reality, she had no options.

It's a bitch-eat-bitch world, kiddo. Raffaella pitied little Raffie as she reminisced. For just a moment, she imagined that fossil of a nun sitting across from her. It's just a fucking cat, you fat whore. Probably would've eaten less in a month than you do on a Victendes, if it outlived you.

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"...Who doesn't like cats? I might have to kick their butt," Raffie said, deadpan. After a moment, she shook her head and snapped out of it, getting back to the point of the conversation. "Yeah, I kinda got it. You were just wa~y too similar. Besides, normal boys aren't that cu— anyway. I didn't think the girl was me."

She smiled sadly, averting her eyes, obviously unsure how to respond to the confession. It was all fun and games to be confessed to by some random boy and turn him down gently, but a sincere and heartfelt confession from Ayla..? It's me who's pretending to be something I'm not. We're nothing alike. ...You're what I wanted to be.

Cute—innocent—kind—all traits this world had strangled out of her. Yet, if you didn't at least pretend to have them, no one would want you. Beneath the mask, some vile part of her was brimming with ideas for how she might use Ayla's crush for advantage—but Ayla was so very much like the girl she used to be. It was unconscionable, even monstrous.

"Hey, so... If you're Asier, then that means you're engaged, right? We're, uh, pretty much in the same boat, huh." She looked everywhere but at Ayla, afraid of her eyes, afraid to catch a glimpse of that crushing disappointment she regularly saw in the mirror. "Anyway, I'm not mad. I just..." she trailed off, not finding the words.

Ayla squeezed Raffie’s hand warmly, their fingers interlocked, and she gave her a big smile, releasing a sigh of relief. “We have been so terribly guilty about wronging you. It's a relief that you are still open to being with me.” She realized she now had a good friend to talk to about that experience with, too. “We agree, he was kind of cute, but looked too much like my brother for my tastes. We never knew it would be so awkward being a man as well. It was like you suddenly had to become emotionally stilted. And the cheek of that waiter! Giving us a menu without prices on, unless you are a man. We had thought all the menus were like that.” She shook her head in disapproval.

Ayla nodded as they discussed engagements. “Unfortunately so. Looking for an excuse to break it though. Perhaps we could become a Zeno, and it would be a convenient excuse to disentangle myself from any political arrangements.” She popped one of the macaroons in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. “There's no love in this arrangement. Outside perfunctory gifts and letters, there's nothing there. We have only met him once. But by Ipte, we are not going to live our life without love.” She leaned in towards Raffie, as if sharing a secret. “We think he is a friend of Tku,” she said, bending her hand at the wrist before sitting back. “He spends all his time travelling the world. Perhaps we should try to introduce them.”

She continued to hold her friend's hand, cherishing the gentle connection between them as she smiled. It was comforting to be in Raffie’s company. Ayla saw a little bit of herself in there, and she would have loved a sister like her, rather than the vapid real one she had. Ayla continued to shine brightly towards her friend.

Raffaella sighed. Why, Oraff? Why are girls so cruel? She felt Ayla's heartbeat through her fingers and returned a little squeeze. Why do we both act like we don't know how this ends?

"Hehe. It's mostly the high-end places that are like that, where girls expect to eat for free."

Why did you say that? She can't know you came from the streets. No one can know.

"Well, I've just heard the cheaper places are different. My maid told me about it!" She cracked a faux childish grin, as if she knew something most people didn't.

A 'friend of Tku' sounds like a euphemism. Do I want to know? She pondered, quirked a brow, and shrugged. "Huuh. You're ambitious. I could never be a Zeno. ...Do you hate him?" she asked curiously.

Ayla leaned back and giggled for a moment, "The market vendors, you have to barter with them, and the more well-dressed you are, the higher the price goes up." A smile appeared on her lips, "Maura knew how to get the best deals, though. Every time they tried to overcharge her, she would remark how her father must have been selling to them too cheaply. They adjusted their prices accordingly when she was around."

She returned to the other matter, "No, we don’t hate him. He hasn’t done anything to deserve that." With a squeeze of the hand, she asked, "What about yourself?"

"Ooh. I've never had to haggle before... Show me sometime~?" she lied pleasantly. Well, if you're going that far down the social ladder, you can get anything for free if you look cute and pathetic enough, she reminisced, but said nothing. The wealthy get stuff for free all the time, too. Who knew there was symmetry at the top and bottom, she pondered, amused. What she ironically couldn't realize was that being at the top would leave her with just another kind of unhappiness.

Even if she couldn't reveal everything about herself, just listening to this girl talk was surprisingly fun—such were her thoughts when the question was returned to her. "Mm. I suppose I'll probably be engaged to someone by the end of our year of Ipte, and I'll have to try to find a way to like him." It seemed she intended to take her own advice, the advice meant for "Asier." "Getting away from politics really isn't an option for me."

Her mind wandered, first to her first crush, and where he was now as an adult. Probably drunk in a ditch somewhere, like the rest of them, she unceremoniously decided. He'd got what he deserved. Then, she wondered if Ayla had been part of the limited audience who saw her last few matches in Mano e Mano.

Ayla blushed a little. “No, no, we are terrible at haggling. We always fall for all those sob stories they give us. It's cruel that they use such tales to tell a lie.” She shook her head. “Maura is better. She can appraise an item for its true worth, considering things like material, labour, and market rates.” She made a motion indicative of her dislike for such things. “We just act pretty with flowery, well-intentioned words. It tends to work most of the time. More of a big picture approach person, rather than getting bogged down in the details.”

She smiled as Raffiie spoke of engagement. “They would be very lucky to have you. They are in for a real catch,” she gave her a playful wink, cheering her friend along. “Everything is about politics in our situation. The idea of simply being poor and being with the one you love, as Ipte intended, is nice.”

"Mmnheehee." Raffie grinned and giggled. She couldn't help her weakness to flattery. The next statement brought her back to the conversation at hand, however. "What's so romantic about being poor with the one you love? What about being rich with someone you get along with? Or just having both? It's like romance writers have no ambition." She pursed her lips in a playful pout to disguise a more genuine emotion she felt towards the topic. It occurred to her that she had barely touched the macaroons, but by now it was getting awkward. If she reached for one now, it might seem like she was getting bored and, for some reason, she was feeling extra considerate toward Ayla today.

Ayla simply smiled at Raffie’s comments. “Rich and in love is certainly the best outcome,” her eyes sparkled as she bared her teeth, “but those poets say that love is worth more than money, power, and the rest of it. Very romantic.”

She noticed Raffie’s eyes glancing toward the macarons, yet she didn't move to help herself. Is she waiting for us to do it? She picked up one of the colourful mouthfuls and brought it to the girl's lips. “We have been spoiling you, clearly. Eat up.” She pressed the treat to her lips, grinning widely in a teasing manner.

Raffaella chose not to dignify Ayla's naive optimism with a response, leaving the topic with a skeptical cheek puff. As if she had read her mind, Ayla offered another macaroon, and Raffie again found herself indulging. "Neu, I wuz jush... haffing fun," she admitted, averting her gaze.

The Hourglass Order

The Kraken

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Hours Earlier

While the students of Ersand'Enise completed their own preparations to meet with the Doridax family, the skull-masked lady in red met with another cloaked figure in a dimly lit warehouse, not too dissimilar from the one in which they'd be requested to drop off the ransom. Dust motes danced in the ambient sunlight streaming in from the single unwashed window that wasn't broken and boarded up, while the two figures verbally engaged in a dance of their own.

"This is quite unlike... well, any favors you've requested in recent memory. Make it make sense," remarked the Revidian man in the brown cloak.

It could have meant a great many things. It might have been a simple observation, or a show of reluctance, or an attempt to barter for a higher payout. It could even have been interpreted as an almost fatherly warning to the masked youth—but if a fly on the wall had been present to witness the negotiation, it might have noticed that the younger of the two was sitting comfortably at the head of the table.

"Both our enemies and our closest associates lay out their plans, unaware that our plans are already laid out beneath them. It's not your place to make sense of it, and it isn't mine to give it all away," she replied. Unlike his response, the meaning of hers was clear: keep your nose out. "I'm offering you the privilege of operating freely during a time when leashes will be the most tight. Being gifted that level of trust in the Family is no small thing."

"All the more reason why I have to wonder why you'd risk so much for some kidnapped kid, or a criminal or two... It's certainly not about making off with that ransom money," he preempted. "Or your fight for 'yasoi equality' or whatever it is you're up to on the side."

"Ohhh~? Is it not? Tell me more," she replied, perching her cheek on her hand, appearing genuinely invested. This caught the man off guard, and, as he sat there, struggling to form a follow-up question, the life of the Doridax family's son hanging in the balance of every uneasy, awkward second that passed, he finally understood: behind the perception-compelling power of that mask, she was mocking him. Her eyes narrowed, the youth with the skeletal face watched in playful amusement as this grown man struggled to put the pieces together, to find the grander scheme lurking beneath the veneer of a simple plan that read like some kind of childish prank. "Well, it's as if you want the Company to fail."

Her eyes narrowed in further glee. "Heehee! The Family has its tendrils in everything that touches the Ensollian. Every gulf, every port, every river—if a puddle can be used to transport goods by boat, it's been touched by Company ink. They're too big to fail—and why would I want them to?"

"What about the Forte Impresa?" he replied—as if that were a mark against their record.

"What about it?" she shot back flippantly.

"She hasn't been seen near any port since she went missing. We still don't know who's made off with her, and worse still, we know they aren't lone actors. Someone is supplying her; the shareholders that have already left can certainly see that much. At this rate, I'd say the pyrates have as much control over the Ensollian, if not more—unless you mean to sit there and tell me you know all the answers?" he challenged.

The girl's face didn't change, but the energy that could be felt from it did. That skeletal smile didn't move, yet it somehow morphed from something like a child's unbridled mischievous glee to something altogether much more sinister. The single bead of sweat on the man's face suddenly felt ice cold as she considered her response. "Yeah," she replied coolly.

It could have meant a great many things. It might have been a simple acknowledgement that she was aware of the situation, or a show of confidence that it was being handled, or an attempt to suggest that she did, in fact, have all the answers. It could have even been interpreted as an eerie warning that, yes, the pyrates controlled as much or more of the Ensollian now, and that this was being accepted as the new normal. This was policy.

If there had been a fly on the wall, it would have flown away in fear. Again, her meaning was clear.

The negotiations had concluded.

The Hourglass Order

Frenzied Waters

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Castaway

Raffaella had taken the plunge, confident that she and her erstwhile allies would be given a dignified entrance. Whether it was on the beach, or the deck of a ship, or some nearby outpost, they would most certainly not be cast away into the water like some common criminals.

Ah. The boat must have moved, she thought, as she hit the water. Cannon fire became more and more muffled, her tiny body offering little resistance as she sank like a rock. The cold was a shock, and by the time she was able to control her movements in the water well, she had already hit bottom. There was precious little to draw energy from down here, except the tide and some curious and hungry crustaceans. Unconcerned at first, she bounded up toward the surface, but as the need to breathe became more dire, she realized that the math wasn't working out in her favor. She was going to drown, unless...

The Queen Arrives

Greetings. The humans call me Kıskaç. I am what you call a torpedo thresher. Though I am young and adopted, I am quite proud of my pearlescent color. I was born the very picture of elegance among my siblings.

This hu... no, this bizarre creature is my master. The girl is called the lady of the house, but from my careful observations, she seems more a servant than a noble lady—and she is, how do you say...

blurble...

...a touch less than elegant. Still, it behooves me to care for her. She makes such succu—ahem. I sense that she has great potential, indeed. If she is not the elegant noble lady of the house, I shall endeavor to make it so.

That ship over there seems the most elegant of the four. I shall help her reach it. Make a grand entrance, my human.

Raffaella's heroic torpedo thresher dived to her aid, and pushed her the rest of the way to the surface, toward the Virangish flagship. She coughed and struggled as she recovered her senses, and she launched herself out of the water and landed on the deck. It would be a moment before she could speak properly, a moment in which the captain and crew would not know if she was a stowaway, an intruder, or what. A storm of questions was surely headed her way, but as soon as she could speak, she would shout the only thing she could think of to get them to stop firing at the students. "Ren Baykara is in the water! We came from Ersand'Enise!" she rattled off in quick Virangish. She may not look like one, but she could speak like one of their own countrymen.

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The Six-Tailed Fox

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The Doridax Family's Plight

Abdel peered into the contents of the boxes, relatively unfazed by the grizzly display. Still, he put up a look of concern to not appear too callous in what he saw as a trying moment for the family's patriarch. The tethered beastmaster rubbed his chin. “I'm sorry this is blighted situation has befallen your family, Mister Doridax.” he looked into the man's eyes with sincerity. “I have no doubt we'll be able to track these people. In fact,” he hovered his hand over the box that held the finger. “for what they've done, I think letting them stay ahead of us wouldn't be prudent and a signal for them that you can be bullied at any time.” he shot an expectant look at the father as the hovering hand approached the finger.

“You must know about Skuggvars from where you're from, Mr. Doridax. Then you would understand why I'd need this finger.” only with the authorization for the fatherly Yasoi would he seize the severed part, of course. “We should be able to track down the owner. With some luck, it's actually a decoy and thus a lead for us to get a jump on the kidnappers.”

Oksana examined the details of the case. Such complicated affairs were not her strong suit; she was a simple girl who spent most of her time in the wilderness. If a huntress wanted to catch an animal, then the first task was to find its location, and the second task was to lure it out. In retrospect, this case was far easier to resolve because they knew where the 'animal' was; they just needed bait for the trap.

"We don't know them, but we have the location, and we have what they want." She indicated towards the letter, pointing out the writing warehouse on Owl Street and the demand for five thousand Magus. "We bait the trap, they come out. We capture them for lord. Job done." She spoke positively and authoritatively on the matter as she looked at the others.

Ashon listened to the ideas presented, raising his own finger, though not too close to Abdel. "Yes, yes, there are some great ideas here. A touch of refinement needed, but they will definitely work to bring home your wayward son." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "There's a good chance that Jaxan wouldn't be there at the meet, and our little springing of their trap could backfire on its own." He flicked Oksana's nose playfully. "What we need is what's called a multi-faceted approach in yanii speak, or in less fancy words, a plan with a couple of moves going on at once."

He gestured toward Abdel with an enclosed hand. "One group tracks down Jaxan specifically, rescuing him from the foes." He held up another hand. "Another acts as the distraction; we'll need to create a very juicy target to draw away support." He opened his hand to reveal a benny. "With attention focused elsewhere, you can grab him safely, then we apprehend those involved." He flicked the coin up and caught it.

"As for the distraction, it's best if you don't attend yourself. So we'll need to borrow some clothes for myself and my friend here." He put his arm around Seviin, pulling her close. "We'll dress up enough to resemble yourselves so they think we're the bigger mark." He grinned widely at Seviin. "What do you say? Will you be my wife for the evening?"

Seviin was not sure if she should've been here. She knew nobody, aside from Ashon in the most cursory manner, and felt like an outsider. Still, there was a need and she was a healer and protector. If she would not sully the name of Lady Oirase by employing her talents on behalf of the Grey Fleet, then neither could she sit idle while her people suffered outside the gates of Ersand'Enise. The 'pass' she'd been given a couple days ago - the one that she'd been told to wear at all times - was a reminder of the challenges they faced and she burned with resentment over the entire affair. Still, it was not enough to drive her back into the arms of her Tarlonese brethren. She'd made her break and there was no going back.

Mostly, out of sorts as she was, the young priestess listened in lieu of speaking. There seemed very many speakers and few listeners here. She listened and observed. Abdel was one of those proactive principled secretly-angry sorts. Lunara was a soft, weak noble girl who let others lead her. Oksana knew killing, though Seviin could scarcely understand her.

Then, Ashon spoke and Seviin's face lost much of its paleness for a moment. "I... I shall endeavour to serve... well," she stammered, trying to fight back the aggressive blush. "I should speak little, however. I sound ever so much like a Tarlonese." When Niallus opened his mouth she took some solace. Jaxon. He was perhaps even more hopeless than her. beyond that, she got little sense of him. He was kind, perhaps, especially to ladies, set on his own ideas. Dorothea was the mocking type, but with a bit of grace and subtlety. Seviin found herself torn. She often harboured similar impulses, though she never entertained them.

There were, as far as she could discern, four different plans being floated about and nine people to carry them out. Track the finger with the skuggvars, bring the money and ambush the kidnappers, create a decoy target - including myself, and nab Jaxan. It was a lot to juggle and they had no idea of their enemy's strength. Seviin did not like killing; she abhorred it, in fact, but she knew it almost like Oksana did, so immersed had she been in the brutal world of Tarlonese expansion. You did your recon. Leaping in without doing any was a recipe for disaster. Dory was right.

She was about to separate herself from Ashon and say as much when Johann, another listener, spoke up. "I might be called overcautious," he admitted, "but I can't help help but wonder if my lady is right." He gestured in the Feskan girl's direction. "We know nothing about our quarry except that they have put forward a ransom note for Baron Doridax's son and seen fit to include a finger that may be his as evidence of their seriousness. I am very much for a multifaceted approach and I see no reason not to employ the... talents of those skuggvars, but surely we must learn something before just charging in."

"We also should not split into groups of less than three people," Seviin suggested, finally finding her voice again, "except, perhaps, in the case of myself and Ashon somewhat later."

Oksana rubbed her nose as the Yasoi flicked the tip of it, earning him a disapproving glare from her. As he and the others spoke, she tilted her head, trying to follow along with the conversation. A part of her wondered if they were just making up words at this point. From what she gathered, they thought her plan was a good one, and that worked for her.

Peeling an apple with her sword, she noticed Seviin looking over at her a couple of times. Perhaps she's hungry, Oksana thought. She cut the fruit in half and offered a portion to the girl with a big smile on her face. "It's sweet," she said, then proceeded to cut the remaining half into quarters, taking a bite of one of them herself. Secretly, she slipped another piece under her cloak, feeding some kind of animal tucked in there.

The discussion seemed to shift towards dividing people into groups for further talks. In hindsight, she should have considered a task involving hunting and tracking animals, or something related to the wilderness where her skill set would be more relevant. But beggars can't be choosers, and she was certainly begging when it came to income right now.

Lunara on seeing the Yasoi's severed finger, started to feel quinsy. She instinctively put her left hand over her mouth and she also started to feel unsteady, as she had never seen a severed limb before. On noticing that Niallus was next to her she grabbed his are with her right hand to steady herself. "Sorry Niallus, I suddenly felt ill on seeing the finger, never seen that before." Lunara's Goma cat Miray on seeing that Lunara wasn't feeling well started to rub her face on her leg and stand on her hind legs to get her attention. Lunara on noticing this crouched down and petted her. "It's ok Miray, I'm fine."

Lunara after pulling herself around, stood and attentively listened to the conversations. To make sure she heard every idea, and information. She wanted to make sure she knew exactly what had happened and what was going to happen.

Feeling something grip on his sleeve, From his first glance, he originally thought it was Mahal. But seeing the Goma Cat by her side turns out it was the other one, Lunara. Hearing her apologise for gripping him to help keep her steady. "No, no it's alright." listening to the ideas that was mentioned by the his fellow biros. When Jamboi mentioned about the diversion. Niallus agreed. "A Diversion would be good." cupping his chin, pondering on what more input could be added to help.

"If we have a small group looking for Jaxon while the the others cause a distraction. I can take part im looking Like Jamboi said, Most of their priorities will be on this meeting, more likely be one high goons and a few lackys at best." Thinking more about it, his gaze turned to Daxon. "Would you be able to provide a description of your son? Or Hair colour, length, height that sort of thing. Or even how he talks. It can help the group who are searching for him have an easier time."

"A finger, huh? Now that's a classic." Dory looked with a wide smirk on her expression. Her look turned to the girl that fell ill from just a finger. "There were corpses and mangled bodies all around Ersand'Enise when some students attacked for their little 'revolution'. A little finger can't be too much to look at, right?"

The girl just leaned around. "These plans could work if the kidnappers don't account for it, I guess. But than again we don't even know how strong they are given a fight could break out."

But among the many who spoke, there was one who listened, and listened intently: the one who simply introduced herself with the yasoi word for "fox." Her skeletal smile was at times impossibly friendly and, only when appropriate, menacing.

"It is hard for the young to understand the love of a parent, but, as someone who was kidnapped and rescued once, I know your feelings well." She narrowed her eyes at the flippant attitudes of some of her allies. Then, her gloved hands reached for the ransom money, as she produced a bag of rice from her own cloak and mixed the two together. Anticipating the strange looks from her wealthy patrons and classmates, she explained. "When carrying large sums of money through a seedy place like Mudville, one should take care that her purse does not jingle with the telltale sound of gold." Ensuring a top layer of rice, and tying the mundane-looking sack tightly, she jostled it a few times, satisfied with her handiwork.

"I can vouch for the talents of Abdel and his skuggvars. But regardless of what other plans we decide to set into motion, to give us the best chance of returning the boy unharmed, someone must take the money to the location and negotiate if necessary. Surely no one objects to letting me perform this role?" She looked around at each of them reassuringly. "If I were accompanied, even by a distance, by the pair of you, disguised as the parents, this might go smoothly," she said as she regarded Ashon's contribution.

Seviin blinked at Oksana's offer. She swallowed and accepted the slice of apple. "I thank you for your generosity, suunei." If there was more to notice, she did not comment upon it. Then, the Rettanese girl spoke and she nodded. "I agree that we should try, but it is best if we go as agents of their Lord and Ladyships, however. I am not a skilled enough illusionist to pass myself off as Jaxan's Lady mother." She twisted to regard Ashon briefly. "And I may be mistaken, but I don't believe he is either." She winked. Xiuyang gave Ashon an exasperated side-eye, as if to suggest that this was his problem to solve.

Ashon smirked widely, and shook his head at the pair of them. “We don’t have to look like her. We simply have to look like we could be her," as he placed emphasis on the points “After all, this beautiful and regal lady has never stepped foot in the slums known as Mudsville.”

He clasped his hands together, “Now, we have a plan idea, let’s go and gather some information so we can put it into practice.”

The masked Rettanese pinched his sleeve as if expecting him to run off. "True, they could be idiots who wouldn't know one well-dressed yasoi from another. But we shouldn't just assume that. I don't think they could have kidnapped Jaxan without a plan. This was probably a targeted abduction, which means they might know who they're dealing with. And yet they did what they did. Which is why Seviin is right. Smaller groups are a bad idea."

Seviin narrowed her eyes for a moment. Then, she shrugged. "I suppose we should try to look distinguished, then." The mysterious Rettanese spoke in a way that was quite familiar with Ashon and this only added a layer to the mystery. "All three of us together, then. Ideally, as Belleville is not geographically large, we should each try to keep within sensing range of at least one other group."

Having separated themselves from the wealthy family for this brief discussion, Seviin pivoted on her heel and made to return. "Perhaps we might borrow some clothing?"

"Then, as the kids say, I shall 'case the joint' while you two prepare," she replied to Seviin. "You know, you may not need to worry so much about getting your physical appearance exactly right. Dress well, maintain good posture, walk with dignity, age yourselves up with some makeup-wrinkles if you can. Throw on a cloak and cover as much as possible; any sensible person would do that in this situation. I can change the color of your hair, at least, if need be. And if we're found out, so be it. Our enemies shouldn't be shocked to be confronted with body doubles at the end of the day."

Johann, meanwhile, simply played an easygoing part. "I admit to being in quite over my head," he remarked. "Like my Feskan neighbour here -" He gestured at Dory "I am merely looking to set things right immediately outside our city's gates and help some people in need." He paused and furrowed his brow. "Perhaps, given the... regrettable recent history between our people and the yasoi, I should focus on the human side of matters and, when it comes down to the nitty-gritty of matters, I might act as muscle if needed." He seemed less than enthusiastic about the last part of his proposal but, perhaps , accepting of its necessity. "Now, I do think time is somewhat of the essence. We should get moving if we are to recover Master Jaxan in a reasonable state."

---

With that, the Fox took her leave and, expecting to go alone, was surprised to find Dory following her outside. "Is this really a task for a lady of noble bearing such as yourself? The types we are dealing with may decide that a woman of your beauty would fetch a high price. Not to be crass, but I'd prefer to be thought of as rude rather than incompetent. Can you handle yourself if things go south?" She didn't look at Dory while she spoke; her head was always on a swivel. "Their delivery point is a warehouse. Relatively isolated and, if bystanders happened to hear loud noises, it would likely be overlooked. Not that many in that part of Mudville would likely investigate a potential danger in any case."

A surprised look appeared on Dory’s expression, only to be followed by a chuckle. ”I feel blessed that you worry about me that much, but please be more worried about your own safety than my own.” She decided to take the words of the other as a compliment. ”If things go south, as they say. I will make sure it will be them that will have things go south, you can count on that.” A warm smile was the look she accompanied those words by.

She elected to lead the duo of Ashon and Seviin as the "obvious bodyguard" while Dory and Lunara followed at a discreet distance, effectively to tail anyone who was tailing them. Usually, she would have her own hired help for this, but there was only time to prepare enough tricks to be confident—not certain. Both her eyes and her mind wandered as she considered the next steps, but "being followed" was almost a distinct sense to Xiuyang. She knew the feeling of being stalked uncomfortably well, especially after her recent experiences: the subtle change in brain chemistry and the ever-so-slight increase in pace that could be felt nearby whenever she and her escorts would turn a sudden corner. With each corner, she eliminated suspects, and eventually, she was down to four. She was no Tethered, but if she kept them just barely in range, and with enough trials and errors—

She saw herself, ten seconds ahead, and saw Ashon lean in to whisper something she couldn't hear. That was enough for her. She started drawing, and not a moment too soon for the Devourer, for the enemy was upon them. Seviin was on the ground, and Xiuyang deleted an arcane lance with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary. She saw herself try and fail to recover the box, caught in a struggle of kinetic magic that she couldn't win, and instead opted to just use binding to cause the earth to swallow it up as it landed with a distinctly un-money-like "clunk."

As the attackers lunged forward, Ashon smoothly stepped back, his tailored suit rippling with his movements. With a flick of his wrist, he launched a small purse of coins at the nearest assailant, the bag bursting open upon impact, showering the thief with a cascade of copper.

He spun around gracefully, the large money bag held firmly in his hand like a seasoned duellist wielding a rapier. Ka-ching! The sound of the clunk of coins made as the bag connected with the head of another thug, sending him stumbling backward. The sound of clinking coins filled the air as the bag swung through the melee, each strike precise as he bludgeoned their foe.

Ashon straightened his jacket with a flourish, as he surveyed the surrounding chaos with a critical eye. "Manners maketh a Moila," he declared loudly, the condescending smirk played on his lips as his voice carried above the commotion. With a swift movement, he used the bag to uppercut one of the thugs before bringing it down on the back of his head. "Stay down, Tem’broa," he chided, his tone dripping with disdain. He kicked the thug as he rolled into a puddle, using him as a makeshift bridge to keep his feet dry as he approached his dear wife.

Turning to Seviin with an elegant bow, Ashon extended his hand to hers, his eyes sparkled as he drew her close. "Please, don't cry, my Eluulan," he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to her fingertips.

Ashon threw money at them—actually, he threw it everywhere, and in no time at all, the box was buried not just in dirt, but beneath the feet of a scurrying crowd, eagerly scooping up whatever they could. There was no time to be impressed with their accidental teamwork, however. It was time for the finisher. "Eshiran condemn you, defilers!" she shouted, her words thick with disdain and a not-so-subtle implication that the fancy-looking box the thieves had just tried to steal contained the ashes or remains of the deceased. "Shall I kill them, milady?" she asked Seviin as Ashon helped her to her feet. Of course, she already knew her answer would be "no," and this was the point: to paint a halo on her allies, and devil horns on the four criminals, before they could try to do the reverse. The general public held little love for the wealthy, after all.

Seviin had drawn a bonecrush away before it could cause anything more than discomfort and dropped a wall in front of the second brigand coming at her, but it did not prove necessary. Bags of money flew out, the masked woman who she did not know dropped the chest into a hole, and she could sense Dory and Lunara catching up from behind, hopefully under the cover of wanting to dive for the cash. Indeed, Ashon was having too much fun throwing his money around, quite literally, and the pause following the masked woman's question was about to tip over into awkward.

Seviin was not supposed to have spoken, but she couldn't just... She cleared her throat and focused on sounding like a Consoi. "No." she pleaded beatifically, "Please just secure -" It couldn't be a 'family member'. She remembered very well from her schooling that consoi did not cremate their dead, so she adjusted on the fly. "Mister Zahrawi's ashes. He was very dear to us."

It was more words than she'd have liked. She hadn't rolled her 'r' quite well enough. She'd made sure to use a name from a population who were buried with money. Hopefully nobody would notice the first in the scramble and all would notice the second. Most were still diving for pocket change, at least. It was a little bit pathetic how caught up in worldly things they were, to be honest. Seviin needed only her faith.

The robbers had switched targets, of course, going after Ashon, and Lunara and Dory were reaching the thick of things presently. It occurred to her that these were likely not the Colas. They'd have known there was a ransom and they'd have recognized that the bags of bennies and owls were not it. "Please let him rest!" Seviin wailed, and a couple of people drew back from the area of the semi-buried chest. Might someone else add to the ruse? Her accent had slipped there and she knew she was treading too far on a narrow branch. They merely needed to extract themselves from a situation that was nothing more than unneeded peril and a waste of their collective time.

Fuck I'm so stupid that should not have worked holy shit, Xiuyang managed to hurl at herself quickly. She was on a tight schedule, after all. "S-Say no more, milady," she stammered back quietly, the statement of double meaning delivered with a look of panic and apology in equal measure.

Managing to somehow not break character too much, she turned her attention back to the crowd in front of them. "Oi, oi. Make way already," she said as she kinetically scattered the coins away from the small mound in the center of the street, then stuck her staff in the dirt as if she were staking a claim. "You there. Take this money and leave, and I'll only have to bury one person today. Understood? Capito? Habla Torragonese?" She gestured somewhat flippantly, as if they posed no threat to her whatsoever.

Dory was close enough to intervene if need be. She had enough on her for any scenario she might be in, her rifle, her sword and a certain book. The Feskan did not expect for things to get this lively so soon, but the closer she got to the conflict the bigger the grin on her face became.

She stumbled upon her oh so favorite yasoi boy and one of the troublemakers. As soon as she got a good inspection on the situation, a small disturbance within reality would appear over the girl’s torso and soon the butt of a rifle would poke out of it. With one quick pull the rifle revealed its beauty. The rifle was black instead of the normal wood brown that most magusjaegers were used to. The etchings were deep crimson and almost seemed to glow with a flicker pattern similar to fire.

She could so easily switch targets to take revenge on that smug asshole blaming the death of her beloved on her. . . But she won’t, not this time. Her breathing was steady, her eyes sharpened and within what felt like a second after she pulled the rifle, her arm straightened and took the shot. Hitting the robber’s neck, although missing the spine. ”Oh, dear. . . I was aiming for the shoulder.” She looked shocked at the shot she took, and it seemed she wasn’t as good of a shot as she thought she was. The robber was alive, but for how long would they be able to hold onto life?

"Man servant," Ashon called out as he addressed Xiuyang with a regal air, "Once you have dealt with these ruffians, please ensure the ashes are secure. If you make my dearest raise her voice again, I'll dock your pay." He clicked his fingers imperiously, the sound cracked in the air. "You may leave the coin; I will find a new levy to enact."

Having a little too much fun committing to the bit, there. "Man-servant..." Xiuyang thought irritably. Well, she certainly was in the process of "dealing with" the ruffians, but seeing as one of her allies had deemed it fit to nearly behead one of them with a bullet, she began drawing to enhance her threat... and prepare for an unnecessarily drawn-out battle that was likely about to happen.

The Hourglass Order

Buried Hopes, Seeping Like Darkness

---

---

The Interview

The office was large and cluttered with crates, artifacts, and stacks of books and notes, organized with a sort of idiosyncratic chaos that smacked of academia. The windows were large and dusty, arched at the top, and golden light streamed in through them. At the far end of the room, silhouetted within the open balcony doors, behind a great mahogany desk, stood the head of the Archaeology department: Giancarlo Silvestri. On the desk was laid out a luxuriant antipasto platter. Upon seeing Xiuyang enter, he turned and smiled, hands clasped behind his back. "Please, come in, seat yourself and help yourself." He gestured. "I do apologize in advance for just how tough I'm going to be on you, but let's do it on a full stomach, no?" He smiled and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkled warmly.

Xiuyang wore a dark blue Rettanese dress with red floral patterns, sharp and form fitting. A blood red pendant adorned her neck, and for once, she was covering her scars with makeup and arcane magic. "I would never hold it against you to take your work seriously, Messer Silvestri," she remarked, taking her seat with a businesslike smile. At his prompting, she eyed the food, but considering who came before, she would politely abstain, with an apologetic smile.

The High Zeno reached out with a tiny fork and took a roll of prosciutto from the plank. "Your decision, Signorina Solari." He smiled, and the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Now, as we are all business here, shall we get down to it?" He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed, smiling again. "Simple question, a rote one you've likely prepared for: Why this job? Why this job really? Help me understand you."

Xiuyang chuckled good-naturedly, checking over her shoulder to the door Zast had just left from. "My apologies. I know it's irrational. Someone of my blood shouldn't worry about where food has or hasn't been—but despite everything, I'm still a lady, so here we are," she japed.

She nodded at the suggestion that she was prepared for his question. "My favorite part of any job has always been to find the talent among those under my purview, and allocate my time and resources accordingly, teaching included. I could do that anywhere, but I find my interest in the Gift renewed and expanded beyond the scope of medicine lately." After a pause of consideration, she continued. "A good way to continue to learn is to teach. If both teacher and student are motivated, both stand to benefit. I don't waste my limited resources on the unmotivated, who refuse to learn."

"Oh, truly? Why this sudden awakening, Miss Solari?" Giancarlo still appeared to be waiting: waiting to be convinced.

Xiuyang smiled tightly in mild annoyance. She could truthfully only come up with one answer to that, and she had convinced herself that everyone else was thinking it too: she was weak. Those who can't, teach.

"Can you think back to a time when you were young and naive enough to think that only selfish or evil people made enemies?" She knitted her fingers anxiously, some small part of her wondering if only she could ever be that blind and stupid. "I used to think of the Gift as just this funny bag of tricks the nobles had, a learnable skill like any other. Now I've seen how much bigger than all of us it truly is. I've seen the Gift do things that ought not be done, in the hands of those who ought not have it. But they do, and when a nine-point-five decides to exercise their will, it's no wonder people say the gods are on their side, or that they themselves are the gods." Xiuyang frowned. She was so close yet so far from that level. Her RAS level was considered "prodigious," but the more they called her "prodigy," the more it began to sound like a taunt, a joke at her expense.

"Nothing could be more important than teaching those with the Gift to use it responsibly. Without that, there would be no order, either within society or to life itself. No one could ever live in peace. Some nights, I can barely sleep. I always wake up wondering if my nightmares are real." There was obvious frustration on her face and in her voice. Frustration that it had taken her this long to come to an obvious conclusion, perhaps, or maybe frustration that she had desired a more convincing answer herself, but had not found one. A more convincing answer to what, though? Not just Silvestri's question, but a much deeper one.

Silvestri clasped his hands at the small of his back and stood in profile, silhouetted by the archway. "So," he concluded, "in a nutshell: fear." He nodded slowly, as if to digest the statement. "You work to prevent something terrible. This, I... understand," he allowed. "Is there anything you work towards, however? A mage should know fear, but not without wonder."

Xiuyang raised her head slightly, curious and bemused. A mage should know fear? she pondered. It wasn't a reaction she expected. Just what had she expected, though? For him to laugh at her for being weak? "My initial goals in attending Ersand'Enise haven't been set aside. There are maladies yet to be understood or made curable... dare I even suggest they might be made preventable in their entirety instead. If such research exists, that's what I want to work on. If it doesn't, then I'll make it so." Her face turned sheepish as the boldness of her own words caught her by surprise.

As if to apologize, she averted her gaze. "I've always been healthy. Illness is not something I can understand from experience, but I've seen how it ruins lives. Even royal heirs are not exempt from the risk of a short, bedridden life. Even when I was young, I pitied them. I'm still passionate about it. I just... also think that I need to be a more well-rounded student. I can mend broken bones, but not the hearts filled with the desire for murder and war. I have to be prepared to protect what's dear to me."

"A fair assertion," the Zeno allowed, "and a hopeful one." He nodded, sipping some of his lemon water. "But also not a whole truth. You've not always been healthy. The scars you're trying to hide with makeup say otherwise." For a moment, his face became sympathetic. "I don't mean to pick at scabs or reopen old wounds, and I do apologize, but I must perform my due diligence." He shook his head and waited for an answer.

There was nothing in Xiuyang's stomach. Yet it turned, as though it might just manifest something to spite her. Scars weren't "unhealthy." They certainly weren't contagious. The High Zeno that stood before her knew this. He wasn't an idiot. All of her father's advice about not drawing attention to herself repeated itself in her rattled mind. She wanted to oversell her offense at his nosiness and just leave. Instead, she swallowed and continued speaking, her face as pale as a ghost.

"What do you think would have happened if I had returned from Yarsoc completely unscathed?" She replied, gathering her composure. She didn't name her assailant. She couldn't. She had no "proof." "This way, their pride is sated, and I remain safe from further attacks, for now." She took a deep breath. She wasn't lying. She was not lying. "Their message is not meant for you, High Zeno. It would be rude of me to insist on showing them to you."

For a moment, his eyes narrowed, but then he shrugged easily enough. "Fair enough," he replied with nonchalance, "but there is something from earlier that interests me, however: a question that I have found myself grappling with before." He took a piece of cheese and tossed it into his mouth, sitting and folding his arms upon the desktop. "You spoke of not caring for the unmotivated, but the reality of both teaching and learning is that you will encounter these people, like it or not, and you are being paid to work with them. How do you reconcile your strident statement to that effect with the harsh reality?"

Xiuyang tried not to look too relieved to be rid of the previous question. The next, though not a soft pitch by any means, was one she was prepared for. "It's true. You can't fire a student. They're more like bad customers than employees." She nodded. "It's not that I'd be refusing to do my job out of frustration—only that I'd be seeking to ensure the school's resources are not going to waste," she explained.

"Perhaps this sounds harsh for a merchant to say, but my only duty is to provide the goods and services that were paid for. It's not my job to ensure that the parents' money is well spent. To not be so brazen as to use myself as an example, you have limited time in your day. Not every student can have your full attention at all times. Students who put in the bare minimum should expect the same in return. The students who show the most promise and who put in the most effort should be the ones receiving 'extra service.' The same here: only the most promising candidates received an interview with you. The rest had their forms thrown in the bin—politely, of course." She put on her best customer service smile to emphasize the point.

He let out a bark of laughter - genuine laughter - or at least it appeared so, and nodded thoughtfully. "That was your best answer yet, and perhaps your most honest." He stood and a hand reached for hers. It was gentle, but rough and calloused. "You are impressive, Xiuyang." He pursed his lips in approval. "So, one last question: do you really want this, and who do you want it for?"

The faux customer service smile gave way to a genuine one as the High Zeno laughed and commended her. She was unaccustomed to praise, and couldn't help herself. Tension left her body as she stood up and shook his hand. He didn't ask about her position at the company. He didn't ask about her choice of friends or question her religious beliefs or point to her alcoholism or seek out other moral failings to criticize. If her own father had been half this supportive—but that didn't matter anymore.

At his final question, her smile mellowed somewhat. She'd spent much of her words both in the written form and the interview trying to sell him on how she'd be an asset to the academy, and he had spent much of his asking about what she wanted out of this. In reply, she nodded in understanding. "I'm sure you've seen your fair share of students being pressured by their parents into doing this, for the prestige. It would be nice if they bragged about me once in a while, but that's not why I'm here. They can 'have' the title of Tan-Zeno, figuratively speaking. The job is for me and my own future."

He shook her hand. "Well, I imagine you'll have it one way or another. The question remains: will that be now or at some time in the future." His smile was businesslike now. "You'll be notified if you've made the test stage. Good luck."

It was Xiuyang's turn to laugh now, but she stifled it. "Hmhm. Just how many times do you think I've written to an applicant that they are 'not accepted at this time,' when the reality is, 'not in a million years?'" She smiled impishly. "Thank you for your time, High Zeno Silvestri, and your well wishes are much appreciated." With a nod of respect and a curtsy, she turned and left.

---

Unbecoming

It was the first gloomy day in a long line of fair weather days; perhaps the Zenos had meddled with the skies again to raise morale, whispered some. The sky was grey, and the distant rumble of thunder punctuated the relative quiet of an Ersand'Enise that saw most of its students enjoying their free time indoors.

It was on these kinds of days that only the most dedicated would train outdoors. It was also on these kinds of days that those students who hated crowds would go to the Proving Grounds to do just that. Among them was the familiar student with the unfamiliar face.

Faster. Xiuyang ran another lap around the inside of the arena; not her second, third or fourth lap—simply "another one." She would run until her lungs burned, and then she would walk until she caught her breath. Then, she would run some more. Faster! Sweat poured past her brow, stinging her eyes and running down the scars she bore. Here, in the Proving Grounds, scars were welcome things. On the face of a warrior, they were celebrated.

Xiuyang did not want to be a warrior. She wanted to be so many other things: a world-renowned doctor and pharmacist, supportive wife of the savviest businessman and philanthropist in all of Revidia, and loving mother of at least four children, who would be accepted and appreciated the way her own mother tried to convince her that she was, but she simply was not.

The faces of the few women lucky enough to be remembered by history did not bear scars. Neither did scars belong on the faces of wives who were loved by their husbands—and they were certainly unbecoming of mothers. Scars belonged on the faces of warriors. Xiuyang did not want to fight. She simply wanted to live—to see the day these dreams would come to fruition—but if history forced her hand, she would become a warrior first, and the rest would have to wait.

Xiuyang continued to run, pursued in her mind's eye by a one-legged phantom. Faster!! she told herself, remembering that time—for it would come again, and the next time she would have to be faster, stronger, and... "S-Shit." Xiuyang stumbled to her knees, willing herself not to throw up. Her training regimen was not very smart, nor—she told herself—did it need to be. For neither the first, second, or third time, she healed the damage in her legs as she retrieved a food jar from her medicine box. It was time for a break—just a short one.

Then, she would run some more—

"You seem determined!" boomed a voice that had become familiar lately. It was Zeno Sectoxomactex. "But you'll run faster if you maintain proper form! You run like you're desperate to escape something—like a woman possessed. Your body will feel less heavy if you lighten the load on your mind." Xiuyang looked up at the tower of a man and regarded him with a smile. "Thank you, Z—Messer Secto." She swiftly corrected herself, but declined the implied offer to lay her troubles before him by way of a silence that would not go unnoticed.

"The strong, silent type, are we? That attitude won't last long under my tutelage," he promised with a grin. "I meant no disrespect." "No, no, I'm sure you didn't—but you'll get my advice whether you like it or not. You've lost weight since the last time I saw you, and for someone as small as you, that's not good. Enough running for you—you should lift weights!" He flexed his biceps to emphasize the point. "And don't neglect your sleep. If all you do is train, you'll never get stronger. No matter how skilled a binder you may be," he added meaningfully. Xiuyang looked down at her gourd and pondered. Muscle repair was something she could do herself. If her energy, focus or willpower wavered, she could give herself more with chemical magic. Daily sleep was a necessity for most people, but a luxury for a talented mage, wasn't it? If this method was good enough for Trypano, it should be good enough for her—but, perhaps she ought to consider his experience. Maybe she was overlooking something important.

Her thoughtful expression seemed satisfactory for the time being. "Believe it or not, I didn't come here to give you a lecture. The archaeologist was looking for you. He has a job for you—not your test, but something that may interest you—a delicate situation befitting an experienced negotiator." An unasked question formed on Xiuyang's face: I passed the interview? Secto grinned from ear to ear. "That ought to put your mind on other things! Go see him," he encouraged. Xiuyang took a victory chug from her gourd. "Thank you. I will."

---

Ransom Demand

This isn't where I'm supposed to be. That was all Xiuyang could think about as she listened to the hooded figure and read the notice being passed around. While she hadn't exactly given her word that she would accept the mission from High Zeno Silvestri, expressing her interest in receiving a mission from him personally and then getting distracted by Yasoi affairs could be construed as "unprofessional" by those who wished to look for such things. This was, ostensibly, also a matter which the academy would want resolved, and one she couldn't ignore. She would just have to hope that an understanding could be reached after the fact. This was effectively a hostage situation, and she couldn't waste time apologizing ironically for taking the initiative on this.

Jaxan'suul'doridax. When the notice finally reached her hand, she had to disguise her scoff as a dramatic loss of breath. Charitable work. Right... At least this explains his disappearance. Having finished reading, she passed it along, then stood pondering a while. The notice had some concerning undertones about the parents' intentions. Understandably, their way of handling this could be charitably described as "unrefined." As she considered their intentions, and the intentions of some of her allies, and the possible motives of the kidnappers, various pieces fell into place in her mind. "I agree with you, Seviin—but this situation requires more finesse than our wealthy friends are expecting. Frankly, it's beyond me. I'm going to call in a favor from an old friend of mine. Don't worry, you can trust them—more than you can trust me, really. Unlike me, they have a reputation to uphold," she japed playfully, winking at Ashon as she turned to leave.

---

Rather than Xiuyang, someone else arrived at 74A Crossview Terrace. Another, entirely different black-haired, distinctly Rettanese woman wearing a red hood, not to be confused with Xiuyang, carrying a historically significant staff that certainly didn't belong to their friend, Xiuyang, and wearing a skull masque that was definitely not acquired by Ciro during the Trials prize selection.

Definitely Not Xiuyang

"Good day to you all," she greeted as though meeting for the first time, with a thick Rettanese accent. She leaned on her staff as she bowed her head. "Since before Belleville got its name, I have been called the 'Six-Tailed Fox,' and been a benefactor of its residents. Now that I am no longer needed there, I've turned my attention to the refugees," She raised her head and pointed her staff in the direction of the Seagate. "I'm here to find and rescue the boy." She planted her staff back on the ground, and casually leaned on it as she spoke with a kind of authority from experience. To her credit, the skull masque did much to give her an aura of a mysterious local guru and plant a seed of doubt even in those who knew her well. It couldn't possibly be anyone else but Xiuyang, but was she? To her friends, she was Xiuyang, but to anyone else, she was... passably incognito, which, given recent events, was probably for the best.

---

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Appetites, Like Sponges, Expand When Whet

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Castaway

Raffie listened to Giancarlo Silvestri explain this complex situation, her eyes lighting up with wonder at all the proper times. A historically significant find! Treasure! Adventure! Pirates! "Well, we can't let the pirates win! They don't care about history, only money!" she chimed in vapidly. This is gonna be, like, a major shitshow. Maybe if I do the bleeding heart thing, I can get some info out of the locals, she pondered. "Aw, shucks! The best and brightest! I just got lucky☆" she squealed. "I'll be there, for sure!" she said with a big smile.

So it was that she arrived at the portal, wearing a shorter summer dress, sandals rather than her usual high heels, and a straw hat. She bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet and her heels, as if she were excitedly daydreaming about going to the beach, not giving any consideration to the political and diplomatic nature of the mission at all. Unlikely doesn't mean it won't happen, though, she wondered in secret, eyeing up all of her allies, trying to decide which among them could actually make a decision and take a side. Hmm~ At least a few of these gentlemen look like they got their priorities straight... She smiled and waved at each of them in turn, not a scrap of evidence as to her inner thoughts apparent on her face—until she laid eyes on Mahal. "O-Oh, uh, fancy meeting you here," she greeted awkwardly, averting her gaze. She's a rash one, but that's better than analysis paralysis. I'll take her over a moralizing gasbag any day.

The Hourglass Order

The Price of Memories, a Renewal of the Soul

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The Death Merchant

A Fond Farewell (New Forum Content)

"My best friend's fiance is with child, Ciro. I can't stay idle and let this injustice go on any longer; I'm going to rescue her. Don't worry about me and protect our assets from these criminals, okay?" She caressed his cheek and gave him a peck on the lips, daring not to linger a moment longer, lest he convince her to stay. "I don't plan on fighting the Zenith. Besides, a goddess couldn't kill me. What chance does she have?" She flashed a cheeky grin.

Outside, students were preparing to storm the Violet Enclave. Xiuyang was relieved to see Tku, the artist who'd painted her new favorite work of all time, safe and sound and handing out mana-enhancing drinks. A particularly potent one caught her keen eyes, and with that, she was drawing energy in the 9 RAS range. She had equipped all of her gear for this mission, and between her three weapons, she chose the concealable flintlock pistols rather than either of the standout polearms. She expected to be absorbed into some kind of stealth unit as usual, but to her surprise, Edyta Laska pulled her aside and asked her to join the Longsword group, a second unit of heavy hitters. This caught her by surprise, both to have her strength acknowledged, and to have Laska of all people be the one to recognize it. Without thinking too hard about the consequences, she agreed.

The Violent Enclave (A Fleshed-Out Powder Keg Summary)

As some students had taken to calling it—once the mercenaries were called upon to attack the students—was their target. Wave upon wave of them came, but the Longsword group, consisting of Edyta Laska, Xiuyang, Ashon, Ingrid and Tommy broke through them with ease. While Xiuyang froze her enemies in place or knocked them out with chemical magic, Laska cut them down without mercy. It felt strange, fighting alongside her in a sort of anti-establishment revolution, with neither one judging the other. Perhaps Ahn-Eshiran had brought the two closer on some spiritual level. She briefly wondered if Laska felt the same.

Again and again, Xiuyang cast spells on the razor's edge of her knowledge as a mage. She failed more often than she succeeded, but Ahn-Dami's Second Chancers absorbed her energies and ensured that nothing was wasted on these lesser opponents. This would prove critical as the golems came into view, along with the leader of the mercenaries, Aras'thazan'in'tiimithal, the Burning Star of Yarsoc—not that the silent elder introduced himself as such. While he and Ingrid were locked in combat, Xiuyang was consistently harassed by the golems. Again, it seemed as if she had been identified as some weak link. The whole ordeal was beginning to piss her off, but she was holding her own.

She attempted to heal Laska, but her hands trembled uncontrollably as she felt the immense power of the mercenary leader blow Tommy away. "Cazzo," she cursed under her breath, shaking as she repeated the attempt while the chaos unfolded around her. Laska said nothing, and patiently waited for Xiuyang to finish her work. Then, she assessed the situation: Ashon needed healing now. It was all Xiuyang could do—to defend herself against attacks and move fluidly from one healing target to the next. Her strength, for whatever it was worth, was only buying her opportunities to keep her allies in fighting shape.

Then, the Doom golem suddenly approached her, and she was caught unprepared—her guns, empty. She stood no chance of defending against its attack without them. She took off, running for her life—and well she did, for next was the end: a magic that shouldn't be touched... a magic that should be considered a forbidden school by all rights and accounts—yet it wasn't. The privilege of nobility was to wield this mighty weapon, reserved for the chosen few blessed by the gods to reach the heights of 8 RAS and above. And even then, few would wield the power that came with advancement in this school.

The company leader was one of these people—and he had shown his unruly strength on the field of battle, halting the advances of the sword party; but Ingrid was another. A scepter of the gods in her hand and a wish on her lips—for destruction upon her enemies, for [CATACLYSM] to befall them—and so, the mushroom fell upon Ersand'Enise. A cloud of death and destruction that consumed these mercenaries, strong by all accounts but in the face of a trained mage of the academy, a high noble from Eskand, ashes in the wind.

The Hourglass Order (T I T A N F A L L . . ?)

What had started as a partisan conflict now brought the students together. The decadence, corruption, and incompetence of the academy's and the city's administrators was simply unconscionable at this point.

The Arboretum was on fire. The geese honked and took flight, flapping frantically to flee the growing conflagration. Townhomes were rubble. The roads and canals were strewn with debris and bodies. That the Arch-Zenos had called in mercenaries against their own charges as opposed to listening to them was the final straw. While some displayed the green and gold of Perrence, others wore all black or waved black banners. Some had taken to calling it the 'Hourglass Revolution', for the time of those greyhairs who had ruled so incompetently was said to be reaching its end.

They called the lead group 'Spearpoint', and they reached the edge of the enclave's powerful warding magics. Within minutes, they were joined by over a dozen others - Longsword, Dagger, Hammer, Red Cross, and Longbow: the elite of the student body and some, perhaps, future arch-zenos themselves. Yet, for all of their considerable power, there was nothing that they could do. More than once, they were repelled: thrown back, burnt to a crisp, electrocuted, or poisoned. The Enclave was impregnable.

Enter the Hourglass Order: ten dissenting faculty members who had sided with their students over their superiors. They all wore matching pins on their lapels. "If you are here," Olivier Masson warned the two dozen youths solemnly, "then you know the risks." His eyes found each of theirs in turn. Sienna Afraval was at work casting a spell with the help of Joao Fabio and a tall man in a black hooded cloak who only a few might've had an inkling about. "I need it from you explicitly," the Zeno prodded. The night air was warm and electric, the sense of something final in the air: either great or disastrous. "Do you understand?" he asked. "Are you prepared, if need be, to die for this task we have set before ourselves?"

Xiuyang regarded the "Hourglass Order" with an odd mixture of admiration and distrust, stopping just shy of contempt. It was a stroke of optical genius, and one she was far too cynical to accept at face value. She had long accepted that the only one who truly cared for her own future was herself. Though these Zenos aligned with her at the current moment, she knew that revolutions rarely spared the revolutionaries. The puppet masters and their commands may change, but the strings would remain, and none could resist their siren's call.

"I'm always prepared to die," she replied to her superior, somewhat blankly. This time, the words felt hollow. As a pacifist without a cause, serving Oraff with all her heart, she had felt secure in her moral superiority and in her final destiny. The only future that mattered to her had been certain. She had set her heart on heavenly things, not because she was enlightened, but because she had nothing worth fighting for in this mortal life. Now, for once, she had to think about her future, and not just in vague terms of stockpiling money; what kind of world would her future children be born into?

It's the first time you've had to think at all, came a venomous whisper in her mind. Your whole life has been a series of easy decisions. Work for your father's company, go to the prestigious magic school, set yourself up to marry a rich Revidian merchant, it taunted further. Now look at you. You're paralyzed, unable to think and act for yourself, in your own best interests.

WHY NOT SIDE WITH THE ESTABLISHMENT, LIKE YOU DID IN RETAN?

Because this time, it's the more difficult choice.

That's why.

Xiuyang glared up at the tower, at the source of the intrusive thoughts. No... they were her own thoughts, but someone had magnified them, and they did so from their ivory tower, secure in the belief that they tormented her "for her own good."

She fought back against the chemical magic, her spite for these societal parasites growing every second. Oh, how tempting it was indeed to choose the side of power, she thought, glancing idly with swiftly concealed envy at the prize Ingrid had just claimed. Unlike her gilded peers, she was an impostor, a poser who fell just short of whatever invisible line she needed to cross to be strong enough to choose her own future. That, at least, seemed certain: that the powerful would only become stronger, while she would continue to stagnate, or grow at a pace so slow that it wouldn't matter in the end.

She could put a stop to that now, by looting the Forked Tower just as she'd always fantasized of doing, but she told herself that they would come for her. These Zenos would be just the same as the ones currently in power, and she would be stripped of her ill-gotten gains. If she wasn't going to be eventually expelled simply for having a Revidian flag next to her name once Perrench interests took over the school, she would certainly be expelled then. Was she simply telling herself this to cope for her lack of courage?

Once again, she made the easy choice.

She was here to save Penny. No, she was here to ensure a happy future for Ashon.

Nothing else mattered. Her doubts, her fears, her lacking convictions were all worthless garbage.

Once again, she would make an easy choice that future generations might look upon with confused, misguided admiration. Historians would praise her for her courage, perhaps.

Only she would know that her actions were ultimately born of cowardice. She could not stand up for herself while those she cared about suffered at the hands of the unjust. Their futures couldn't wait. Hers could.

No one would know how pathetic she felt in this historic moment.

She would not understand the courage others plainly saw in her eyes and her actions, for her own mind denied it.

She was not a hero. She'd never be one. She was simply a merchant who, in troubled times, must deal in life and death.

For a Friend of a Friend

We Endure Death at Every Turn (G A U N T L E T Summary)

A labyrinth awaited them in the tower which held Penny hostage, a labyrinth which threatened to separate the group of friends and wear them down. Trap after trap came, cutting and burning and exploding and poisoning, draining their energy and their will to go on, stealing their items and their very magic itself. It swallowed them, chewed them up and spit them out. It was not like the games they endured during the Trials—there were no Zenos on their side to save them if something went wrong. It was life or death. Xiuyang struggled to understand how her friends knew where to go, when the direction they were going made no logical or architectural sense—but the trained binder dutifully stuck with the group, and together they made it to the end, without being separated once.

They had found Penny, but before them stood several members of the school's establishment faculty, and a mysterious figure. It was a woman, one in her thirties, wearing a cloak with her hood lowered. She had grey streaks on hair and dark bags under her eyes. "Kids don't respect anything these days, not even their own lives." she muttered as she stood stoic before the group. "You'd make an old woman cry."

The shadow extended her hand out expectantly. "I care little for the politics, however. And this girl is clearly no criminal." she peered behind her to indicate Penny was the subject of her comment. "But I do care of the sanctity of this establishment. You will return what you have stolen and your trespass will be forgiven." she announced solemnly. "Failure to comply will force us to act."

"Give us our friend back, and maybe I'll consider returning the thing you tried to kill us with."

"You're a trespasser. What did you expect?"

"Funnily enough, I expected lethal resistance from a corrupt 'establishment.' I owe you nothing."

Her allies, however, had other plans. They seemed eager to part with the treasures they'd salvaged from the deadly traps, passing the woman as if she were a toll booth, assuming that they were trading these items for Penny's life. Xiuyang didn't pass the self-proclaimed 'old woman.' She remained on the other side, eyeing her with clear distrust, prepared to attack her from behind if she tried to betray the trust of her friends. "Don't just stand there being creepy. Answer his question, properly, and you can have this back. I'll take you at your word against my better judgment."

"I will not 'fetch' anything other than the property of this establishment," the shadow stated with a scowl. "Return what is ours and you will meet no resistance from us."

Ashon headed towards Penny, using his hand to do monkey ears behind the shadow's head. "Come on Beautiful, Ciro can buy you trinkets later," he assured her. "Xiuyang, if they are just trying to retrieve the items before battle doesn't matter. It is a chance to get Penny with no further bloodshed," Guy tried to reason with her. Xiuyang stood her ground, however—it wasn't about the trinkets, it was about trust, and she had none for this so-called 'establishment.'

"I don't suppose prisoners are considered property of 'this' establishment?" Xiuyang replied with annoyance. "Stop talking in circles like a bureaucrat and speak human. You're giving us Penny. I'll make it easy for you: yes, or no?" She pulled the hydrostone from inside her robes.

"No," the shadow answered. "My only offer is to not kill you as you retrieve your friend. That is all."

Xiuyang's allies were beginning to get as annoyed as she was—but theirs was directed at her. The pressure was mounting, and this woman was not budging, but Xiuyang had one more trick up her sleeve. "Whatever. Good enough, I guess," Xiuyang replied, stepping forward with the intent to give the stone to the woman. She watched herself, ten seconds ahead of her, return it. If she didn't keep her word... but the woman vanished, as she promised, leaving the two Zenos as the only obstacles left.

One of them was short—like, Marz short. In fact, as they stepped out of the shadows, they could recognize this person as none other than Zeno Domi Durdovin. "Y'kids should've let it all settle." He shook his head in mild disappointment. "I personally respect yer grit. Destroyin' those golems I spent so long to make kaboom-proof is really somethin.'" still, he smiled wickedly.

"Don't forget yourself, Zeno Durdovin." a second, slightly accented but refined voice spoke up. "We have a very important job to do." Out from the shadows came the taller figure. One plump and gay in his expression. "Although, then again, we might find ourselves without a job tomorrow. Perhaps we should consider work security over menial tasks? The message has been sent regarding this girl, after all." A sudden, high-pitched quack came from the right of his leg. It was a goose! One with a customized backpack.

It was there that some recognized who they were dealing with. The air became charged with a rich energy, but none of the students were allowed to indulge. "Hello, dear students! I hope we can settle this in a civil manner." Zeno Van de Waal grinned warmly under his big witch's hat. "Enough have been hurt today, don't you agree?" He continued to speak to the students, several of them trying to negotiate deals with him or to convince him to stand down. However, all of their offers were summarily rejected. Truthfully, Xiuyang had tuned the conversation out as she considered their options, and any dirty tricks the others might be overlooking. In particular, she was worried about the goose, which made all manner of unnatural sounds, and reminded her of the primordial Chicken in ReTan. "I've been outside, and yet I hedge my bets on the school. I encourage you to reconsider what you are doing." Mathijs shot a look at the whole troupe. One more grim that contrasted heavily with the jolly demeanour he had been keeping. "For your sake, I really hope you walk away."

"As riveting as this all is, I think the only real purpose of this conversation is to stall for time," Xiuyang interrupted, eyeing the goose with suspicion, to which it replied with a woof. "Ashon." Mathijs reached around the Yasoi's shoulders. "I really like my job. I can't tell you how much I do with mere words." He nodded with wide eyes. "And my job demands that I keep her safe from any harm. If anything, my dear student, she's safer here in a world that wants to use her as a pawn!" "No one is safe in Sipenta," Xiuyang cynically muttered back under her breath.

Domi cut the top of a cigar and began to puff up. "Safer with some than others, girly." he stared at her with a flat expression. "If ya truly think she's better off with y'lot, then prove et."

"Safe from who? To whose benefit? This is a farce," Xiuyang shrugs. "Are we really gonna give him all our things, just so he can turn around and use them on us?"

Domi scoffed. "If only y'knew the whole story." he shook his head and flicked the ashes from his cigar. Mathijs had been offered all manner of treasures, and he was currently inspecting the compass that was now in his hand. However, he noticed a certain quirk. "Oh dear. I'm afraid it doesn't work." He frowned.

Xiuyang scowled. "I may not know the whole story, but I know this: you're wasting time, because this fight could go either way as it is. If you're that much stronger than us that you don't need a handicap, or reinforcements, then you don't need to kill us to take us down, do you? Why don't you prove that," she spat.

Domi's lips split open into a toothy grin. "I like this one! FULLY AGREED!" The goose honked loudly in approval. Mathijs sighed. "She was right, you'd make an old man cry." He backed up to join Domi. Both drew, and they drew a lot from the rich energies the dark mage had conjured. Many minions were summoned from the VOID.

As Xiuyang predicted, a back-and-forth battle ensued, until Ashon scored a decisive hit against Domi. He was quickly healed, however, and the battle continued, even as some of the students wasted time continuing to negotiate with Mathijs, the true terror in the room. Domi wasn't an issue, certainly not on his own—and Xiuyang was about to prove it. Reaching into her very soul to call upon the power of the divine fruit, she took Domi down several pegs, disabling all of his magical items and brews. He appeared ready to vomit when he was suddenly struck by Niallus, supported from afar by Maura. "If you give us Penny and let us go. You can have this," he offered to Mathijs, before smacking Domi with the Wailing Leviathan.

"Hmmm." the dark mage pondered as he saw the Wailing Leviathan in action. He extended his hands. "Colour me intrigued!" he extended his hand out to Niallus. "Release Penny first." Putting his sword back in its sheath, before handing it over. "Then it's yours." Mathijs looked to Domi, bruised and battered. "I can be convinced to see the virtues of neutrality with such a fine piece of craftsmanship." he smiled toward Niallus. Seeing that he is willing to stand down. Niallus handed Mathijs his trusty Sword. "Here."

Mathijs grinned as he took the sword with great care. Her raised it like a genuine connoisseur and studied it deeply, much to Domi's frustration. "Not as valuable as I initially thought..." he confessed with a nasally voice. "But what's within is something to behold!" he chirped, turning to the group. "I suppose a temporary vacation to study this is warranted! And nothing say laid back like neutrality!" he nodded energetically. "For fuck's sake, don't disarm yourself! I'm telling you we can take them! Why are you trusting these snakes?! Penny isn't even freed yet!" Xiuyang shouted—and finally, Mathijs regarded her. "Funny!" he exclaimed, as her very shadow attempted to strangle her.

Mathijs then moved to a corner as he went to work on discovering the secrets of the sword, back turned to the conflict. Domi was left alone and in the dust. He scowled at first, but then chuckled. A new cigar was pulled and lit up before he took a seat on a nearby piece of rubble. "Ey've had enough." he raised his hand in surrender. "Yer exam's considered passed. Now get outta 'ere before the shadows getcha."

Xiuyang's own shadow rose up from the ground to attack her, lifting her off the ground and strangling her. As she struggled to break free, drawing upon every ounce of her strength, she looked around at the others as they handed over their items to this behemoth of a man. Why was nobody helping her? Could they not see what was happening? Tears ran down her cheeks. Once again, the strong took everything while the "weak" were forced to watch. Eventually, Roslyn, Guy and Niallus seemed to notice what was happening, and Guy's loyal hound Penelope was able to make the shadow vulnerable. Xiuyang collapsed in a heap on the floor, gasping for air. She pounded the floor with her fist. "We fought for our fucking lives to get this far! What the fuck was the point of it all?!" she yelled out hoarsely, teeth grit in rage.

Roslyn lowered next to her friend as she tried to heal her. Her eyes widened when she realized... her binding wasn't working. "Hey, hey. It's okay."

"Oh dear, Salome, no need to get so worked up." Mathijs smiled smarmily. "I was never going to kill you." Then, the goose emerged. "He is." The goose had nothing but violence and hatred in its eyes. Again, it let out a woof. Mathijs gave a twinkle fingered wave. "Ta-tah!"

"We're a fucking joke to you, is that it?! The hell you love this job, you love power and exerting it over others! Penny did nothing wrong and you're all complicit!" she cried out, enraged. Mathijs poked his head out of a portal. "Funny," he repeated, right into her ear, with markedly less humor than before.

Roslyn swallowed the hard lump in her throat as she watched Xiuyang's anger. "Xiuyang, this isn't helping. Let's go get Penny and get out—"

And suddenly, there was nothing but the endless VOID.

Through Persecution and Hell (New Forum Content)

"You're hoping that if I sell you our company's ships, it will encourage others to do the same, en masse? Unfortunately, selling the company's assets is... no longer under my purview. Well... I can't sell you a ship, but—I can... give you a piece of very official-looking paper... put you on one of our most famous flagships, with all her splendor... shake your hand... send you off with a misty-eyed farewell, handkerchief in hand... It's certainly not our fault if there's a... misunderstanding, is it?" Xiuyang reached across the Groove table, taking Ciro Volta's hand gently into hers, eyes narrowed with mercantile glee. "And if that's not enough to get the big boys talking, they don't call me the rumor mill for nothing, do they?" She smiled sweetly. "I'll think seriously about your job offer, too, messer Volta. I'm confident this will be a very lucrative relationship, for both of us." A toast, a pause, a flirtatious wink; a carefully crafted and smooth exit, as her heart raced unbearably fast.

This was it—her ticket back in business. She was going to take her life back, better than before, and if all went well... she dared not think of it, dared not to get her hopes up just yet. A life with Ciro—she couldn't help herself—meant business ventures, perfecting the art of the deal, traveling around the world, philanthropy. Moving the world with money—a mutual goal between them both—rising beyond the highest heights to the very peak of an even better society. Luxury and recognition—truly, these things didn't matter so much to her, but they were a nice bonus, and if Ciro wanted them, she would eagerly do her part to deliver. His plans for Mudville—to feed the poor and hungry on a scale the church neither did nor could ever dream of—oh sure, she had fed him her bit about how skeptical she was of that claim, how every politician would likely make the same promises—but he had said them with so much conviction. A smile like that just couldn't be faked. Fuck, I'm falling for him. Oh gods, I think I might love him. Oh shit. Is this really happening? Glee upon glee became a mixed bag of hope and fear—dread of having this new promise of the future she wanted taken away from her, like everything else.

This new promise was all she had at the moment. This man, and this relationship—she had to protect them at any cost.

...

"What do you mean, I shouldn't have gotten involved?! She did exactly what I planned to do, and she might have succeeded if I'd been there for her!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she felt the weight of the guilt. She told herself she'd tried to stop her, but that was a lie. She allowed this to happen, even encouraged it. Any who saw the guns found at the scene and knew where they came from would know she was involved. Of course, she had planned her cover story by "selling" Marci the guns, to throw any witnesses off the scent—but she had never expected Jocasta to be the witness. Now, she knew. Jocasta had to know that Xiuyang was aware of what Marci planned and had stood aside and let her do it.

YOU WERE HER VICTIM. YOU KNEW WHAT SHE WAS UP AGAINST AND LET HER FACE IT ALONE. YOU'RE A DISGRACE.

Ciro was speaking, softly questioning her, but Xiuyang could hardly hear him over the ringing in her ears.

"I... I worry about you, too, Ciro! Every moment that monster lives is another moment she might take you from me! Just to spite me, just because she can..!"

Ciro embraced Xiuyang, gently shushing her.

But this time, the voices continued, even as he held her close.

YOU'RE A HIDEOUS, STUPID, DEFECTIVE, COWARDLY AND VILE WOMAN.

YOU DON'T DESERVE A MAN THIS PERFECT.

"...You're right. I'm sorry. Ciro, I love you. I love you so much..."

Ḁ̷́ ̸͈̀W̶̝̒Ö̵͜M̶͎̚A̶͑ͅN̷̄͜ ̷̬̒Ĺ̴͇I̵̬͑K̸̦͘E̵͉̊ ̶̰͒Y̵̱̏Ô̷̪Ṵ̶̾ ̷̺͝Ò̸̺N̴̥͛L̶̨͂Ỵ̵́ ̴͈̕H̸̖͂A̵̜̐S̶̼̍ ̸̡̍O̵̳͌N̷̝̓E̴̤͊ ̶̳̓T̵͈͗H̵͈͘I̴̥͘N̵̠͝G̸̢͊ ̶̱̅Ĺ̴̟E̷̥̚F̸͕̚T̷͎̐ ̴̱͂T̵̜̏Ŏ̵̹ ̶͔͐G̸͕̃I̵͈̓V̴̗̀Ë̴̡.̷̢̐

...

---

Blackness. Endless black nothingness. The yawning and dreadful VOID.

None could see Xiuyang's face of utter despair. This. This again. She shrieked.

"I'M SORRY!! I'M SORRY!! PLEASE, ANYTHING BUT THIS!! I'D RATHER DIE!!"

There was no reply. Even her own voice sounded muffled, as there was no echo.

Floating through the endless space, she curled up into a ball and cried into her hands. It was over.

Finally, the gods had had enough of her rebelliousness and incompetence.

She'd finally gotten what she deserved.

Then, however, something changed. Instead of an endless nothing, there appeared a bar above her head, in brought white. It glowed faintly in the dimness. For a moment, it displayed a number: 13. Xiuyang's moment of panic was interrupted when she sensed a source of light and heat appear nearby. Somehow, this was different from before. It had to be. There had to be some small hope. He was toying with her, again, but if he didn't kill her before, he wouldn't do so now, would he? Unless the number 13 stood as a sort of condemnation. She forced herself to steady her breathing, pulled the beanie of Weggosi relaxation over her eyes, and reached out with all her senses. There was a tiny beacon of light and warmth above her head, but a dreadful nothing else.

Xiuyang was horrified. How could there be nothing?! There had to be something!! She did the only thing she could do, and attempted to draw energy from the only source available to her. If she focused, she could use Blessing of Flight to give herself some momentum. Xiuyang ascended—at least she thought it was an ascension—into a world of pure darkness and deadness. There was nothing... except for the slight shrinkage of the bar above her head. Xiuyang continued in the same direction, desperately sensing for something, someone, anyone or anything at all.

Suddenly, Xiuyang conked her head on something firm and springy. This seemed to be the edge of whatever realm she found herself in and it was blessed external stimulus, finally! Finally, Xiuyang had some form of hope that this wasn't just an endless void. Once again, she attempted to use her beanie to pierce the veil of whatever she was being confined in. Sadly, she found... something like a great soft eggshell and it appeared to be endless: for as far as she could sense. It was nothing if not springy. Xiuyang wisely decided to give up on trying to pierce the veil, and sprung off, moving in the opposite direction. It was a pathetic attempt.

Somehow, she felt herself in danger. Was the air getting thinner? Was she drowning? She was running out of energy. The space she moved through began to feel like a kind of liquid. She suddenly felt overwhelmingly cold and tired. She backtracked to the wall and banged on it, but nothing happened. Springing off of it again, with more success this time, she desperately swam through the strange-feeling liquid. At some point, she would realize that she was naked. Her beanie was gone. Was this liquid acidic?! Was she going to die?! What in all the hells was happening?! She couldn't even reach into the future to know for certain. Suddenly, the endless black surrounding her became a warm grey. Even her body felt warm. She continued past that point, and the grey became white... but the white was cold, too. She returned to the greyness, and suddenly, she felt herself growing... smaller? The space was solid now, and closing in around her, forcing her into a fetal position.

She was going to die. She was certain of it now—but, somehow, this death was a comfort.

Warm...

The Golden Mother Smiles Upon Us (Summary of Several Discord Threads)

A sudden but gradual clarity, like waking up from a dream. The VOID was but a distant memory, or perhaps it was a nightmare that had simply never happened at all. Xiuyang was in a cramped space, unable to breathe, but she could hear voices nearby, filled with concern. She reached out, feeling the barrier around her, and this time there was some give. Within a few moments, Xiuyang had hatched from an egg, coughing and wheezing as she desperately filled herself with the breath of life once more.

"Welcome to... wherever this is," Penny declared, holding her hand out and grinning. Guy backed up, letting Penny help her up. "It got pretty dicey there," Guy sighed in relief. "It's good that you made it in one piece." "You okay?" Roslyn asked her. It appeared that they'd all hatched from eggs, and she'd been the last one, worrying everyone. It took a moment before she realized that she was just as naked as the rest of them. She attempted to cover herself, measurably more ashamed than everyone else on account of the scars that covered her body—all of it.

"Well, looks like Ahn-Oraff took a little extra care in sewing you together," Penny joked. "'Least she didn't forget a part." She winked. Xiuyang coughed as a bit of the tension left her body. Screw you, Penny, she thought playfully, but didn't say. Penny didn't know half of the story behind those scars—unless Ashon had told her, but she trusted him more than that. "I'm... sorry. This was my fault."

Roslyn didn't say anything at first than head bobbed to what Penny said. "It's all right. Niallus jinxed it when he mentioned the longer I hang out with you all, the weirder things get..." Penny nodded in agreement. "It was my fault, by that logic, for going with the zenos in the first place." She shrugged. "You couldn't have done anything, Penny. Those freaks are too strong," she replied morosely. "I could've just... shut my mouth." Roslyn flipped back to Xiuyang, her eyes still keeping an eye on 'Pebble?'. "To be honest, I understand your frustration. I just know anger doesn't do much... At least from my experience." "Yeah, maybe," Penny admitted, "but my point is that we've all screwed the pooch, pardon my Enthish, and..." She trailed off, her attention bring pulled elsewhere. "Holy... What the..."

While the girls talked amongst themselves, Guy was occupied by something far stranger than Xiuyang's scars: Pebble had eaten some of the remains of Xiuyang's egg, and had turned into a person—an eeaiko, to be precise. Somehow, she found herself not questioning this too much. Instead, she strangely found herself preoccupied with another thought: nothing happened. She, Xiuyang, the girl who showed no skin, and her face only recently, had been naked as the day she was born, and... nobody cared. How her mother had fretted over every little injury she'd received as a child, as if any nick or scrape could make her unmarriageable. How she'd wept for her daughter when she saw her true face for the first time after being recovered from Yarsoc.

Nobody else cared. Was her mother wrong? Had the times changed? Were her friends all saints? She knew what it looked like when others silently judged. She knew that feeling well, and this wasn't that. Just what exactly had she been worried about all this time? Is this a life-changing revelation, or am I just stupid? she pondered as she realized, once again, that she was naked. "I'm a fucking binder," she scolded herself, binding herself a simple blue tunic. It wasn't long before the others were asking for clothes or making some themselves. "Yep, get in line. Sorry, ladies first," she apologized flippantly, going about the task as if it were perfectly normal. She'd seen a lot of bodies... been a lot of bodies. She sighed. Someday, she'd have to tell Ciro about it. He might even contract it from her someday, if they continued to grow closer together. A part of her pondered how he'd react—the other wondered if he already knew. Somehow, he had a way of acting like he knew all her secrets already, but maybe that was just that invincible confidence she loved so much.

While Guy wrestled with the mixed emotions of Pebble becoming a sapient being, and Ashon and Penny went back to being all over each other as usual, Roslyn and others began to wonder just where they were, and how they could get back to Ersand'Enise. It was as if the heavens themselves then provided an answer. The endless blanket of stars began to shift and change. They formed into a constellation, ever more complex as the seconds passed. It was... an old woman with a shawl. Soon, it was not a constellation, but a vivid image in the sky. As the deity gazed down upon them, Xiuyang and the others marveled upwards. It was the second time she'd been dumped in the middle of sandy nowhere, completely lost and vulnerable—but at least she wasn't alone. Others were arriving as well, from the groups that aimed to overthrow the Zenith or Pentad knew what. All of them had stories to tell, but Xiuyang, weary and worn down by the incomprehensible, kept herself busy just making sure everyone was well.

Xiuyang sighed as she gazed up at the woman in the sky. There was so much to take stock of. She hadn't even fully processed that Penny was with them until just a moment ago, and now she was being told that Joshe Intaba was apparently alive and well. Two animals had become humanoids, at least temporarily in this... dreamlike space? That was how she was coping, at least. Of course the scagbiist-turned-cazenax could speak perfect Avincian, and knew exactly what was going on: they were all going to meet with some gods now. Sure, why not?

"I feel like I'm on drugs," she remarked, getting an eyeful of Ingrid wearing a potato sack for some unholy reason. "Alright, Leon, I'll help you out. I'd better hear some gratitude, though, or I'm gonna start charging for these," she japed, and set about making simple cotton robes in basic colors for everyone. She handed them out to the ladies first, starting with Ingrid and Trypano. "It's not something a noble would wear, but it's at least not abrasive," she said as she gave Ingrid a green one. "If we're really going to meet with gods, please wear something," she reasoned with Trypano, giving her a red one.

"...Is that all of us?" she asked, upon completing the first half of her task. Her face fell as she realized that it was not. "Sister Laska is not with us," she observed as she started handing out robes to the men. Who else was missing? Surely there had been at least one or two more...

The eighteen young people who had given so much and saved so much stood on a sandy shore by a smooth dark sea, unknown stars twinkling above them and a glow burgeoning on the horizon. Then, the waves began to lap a little higher on the shore. The stars began to shift in the sky. The ground itself began to tremble.

Dawn happened all at once. The stars came to life and formed the image of an old woman in the sky. She lifted her great shawl and her face became the sun: radiant, warming, promising. The waves parted and it was a fish large enough to be a vast island that emerged, its great mouth yawning open in the growing light. Finally, as the sun began to brighten the place in which they stood, the mountains in the distance crumbled and fell away in a blaze of smoke, fire, and dust. The head of a gargantuan tortoise rose from the rubble. There were no voices but, suddenly, they each understood that which they gazed upon.

"I AM THE OLD MOTHER OF THE SKY WHOSE GOLDEN SHAWL LIFTS THE NIGHT." It was soft lest it be overwhelming in its sheer magnitude. The other two gods "spoke" as well, but Xiuyang could not hear them.

The arms of the Old Mother beckoned to the nine who had been summoned by her and they began to rise into the sky. Light turned to darkness, lit by an endless blanket of stars, and the air grew cooler. They warded off the cold with the magics at their disposal. The journey was not short, however, and soon the land below was but a speck and the vast apparition before them was everything. Each arrived at around the same time and the immense arms of the Mother swept in to gather her children. They found themselves in an alpine meadow overlooking a small, crystal clear pond ringed by spruce trees. Within this setting, there lay five sacred animals: A bat nestled beneath a crag in the mountain, sleepily opening one eye and gazing tiredly upon the newcomers; a clever raven perched upon a tree branch momentarily before taking flight. She glided overhead of the two land-bound humans. Atop the mountain, some hundred yards distant, nestled a great and powerful dragon, its scales shimmering in the morning light. It raised its mighty head and regarded the group for a moment. Nibbler began sniffing about and, before long, he disturbed a fabulous butterfly. With a beat of its wings, it took off and sailed up and away. They watched it for a moment as it flew over the pond and this was just on time to see a graceful loon land upon the clear waters. It paid them no heed.

The loon let out a haunting call that Guy and Xiuyang could feel inside their very bones, and dived beneath the water's surface. It seemed that the two humans would have to either follow it or wait. Guy removed his shirt. "It's going to be cold Xuiyang, try to keep up." Guy dove into the water with no hesitation. Xiuyang did not understand this place. She didn't know why she felt comforted by the enormous arms of this strange deity, why she felt so safe in this space, nor why she felt compelled to pursue this bird underwater. A shirtless Guy was a familiar sight to Xiuyang; she shrugged, binding away some of her clothing and tightening the rest. Then, she pursued them both.

They searched for the loon underwater but, then, it had popped up above, greedily choking down a fish. "Nobody here?" it squawked mischievously, clearing its throat. "Back under we go!" Xiuyang cast a light about, illuminating the water, but she only saw Guy. Then she looked up, and perhaps she caught a glimpse of something moving downward, or maybe it was just her imagination. Chill shocked him awake, Guy was alone again. Away from all the others. Except Xuiyang of course. He turned to her and spoke, water conveying his voice with ease, "Seen the duck?" The loon, just about to dive, paused. It flapped its wings, rather cross. "A Guy of your stature using such fowl language with me!?" it exclaimed. "Unthinkable!" With that slip, it gave itself away!

Xiuyang gave Guy a signal, indicating that he should chase the loon while she would wait close to the surface to catch it when it came up for air. They may have done this a few times before. Guy accepted his role as the fastest swimmer. "Knew that would rile you, you loon!" Guy started to swim after him as fast as his magic could take him. The plan worked a trick! The loon was cornered and caught. "Unhand me!" it called forlornly. "Oh, I am undone! How you have ruffled my feathers now!" It let out a long call before slipping away. "You cheeky buggers. You are good. quite good! Enjoy your gift!"

Guy popped back to the surface and changed the water to stand, "Great plan Xuiyang," Guy was feeling as refreshed as ever chasing it in the water. Xiuyang seized her chance to cuddle the creature, grinning like an idiot, without a care in the world for what brought her here or what happened before. "Your call sounded lonely, my fellow comedian," she teased as she let him go.

At his last remark, she was just a little confused. "What gift?" she replied, but then she noticed that she felt different—uplifted, like her heart was buoyant. She looked to Guy, as if for confirmation that he also felt the same. He did feel different, though he had a hard time placing it. It wasn't his specialty after all. They had a moment alone, truly disconnected from the outside world, his position in life not mattering here. In a moment of honesty, he spoke. "Sorry I treated you so coldly in that fight," he looked off to the side, not fully sure how to express himself. "I hope you can forgive your old swim buddy."

Xiuyang blinked with slight surprise at Guy's apology. Then, she shook her head. "No, you were right. I should have thrown in the towel," she replied sheepishly, averting her eyes. "I just... need to impress my father. I can't let him underestimate me. I can't let him marry me off to some snooty noble he chooses for me. I'll never get to live my life that way. Just expanding his influence and popping out grandkids. I won't be happy unless I accomplish much more than that." Unwilling to dampen the mood, she threw an arm over his shoulder and grinned. "Who said you could be my 'old' swim buddy? You won't get rid of me."

After the Chaos and Destruction (Eleven Nations Army)

Xiuyang awoke at the site of their "battle" with Mathijs, a reminder of all the negative emotions she'd left behind in that strange realm—the buoyant feeling in her soul hadn't left her, however. Whether the Loon's Call was responsible for it could not be certain. What was certain, however, was that she was currently buried under a pile of the bodies of her friends. This time, it was Roslyn's rear that greeted her. It took a moment for them to untangle their limbs.

Then, outside, there was the aftermath of the chaos and the destruction. Dead and burnt bodies lay under piles of charred debris. Confused and scared students wandered aimlessly among the wreckage, looking for familiar faces and hoping not to see them on the ground, while the Zenos sought to restore some semblance of order. Other Zenos and students alike were regaining consciousness.

Then, out of the blue, a group of Perrench students approached Xiuyang. They jeered and scoffed—some of them demanded outright that the filthy Revidian get lost. She clenched her fists. "You think I don't know what I've done here today?!" she snarled. "I know why you're here—for the glory and fame and wealth you might earn!" she accused cynically. "Tell me, you rats, how a filthy Revidian stands to benefit! Please, enlighten me! I'd love to be rewarded for my efforts for once in my fucking life!"

Though the Perrench outnumbered her, she found herself filled with unnatural courage. Mercifully, however, she would not need it this day, as a Zeno who happened to be near spotted the imminent powder keg and intervened on her behalf, on account of her being outnumbered. She did not, however, escape a mild scolding for egging them on.

Where her friends and allies found and felt triumph, Xiuyang left further embittered. She had ascended to the heights of power in Ersand'Enise only to be toyed with and tossed aside like garbage. They had been allowed some form of victory, perhaps to appease the rampaging youths, or perhaps because it benefitted the new, rising powers to do so. It didn't matter. This victory didn't belong to the students, in her reckoning.

Did she regret her participation in this? Surely she didn't. How could she regret rescuing Penny? But if it wasn't regret, then what was this new and awful feeling that was slowly consuming her sense of reason? And, who could help her make sense of it all?

Guy would probably be angry. Ashon wouldn't want to hear it and wouldn't understand. Ingrid couldn't; she was among the "truly strong." Roslyn wouldn't want to hear her complaints about being weak. Trypano wouldn't care. Maura would just try to sell her something, probably.

Perhaps Ciro would understand her turmoil. There was always Ciro.

While she, led by misguided feelings had stuck her neck out for the princess of an enemy country, Ciro, who always seemed to keep a more level head than hers, had been protecting their assets—their future. Perhaps she ought to have done the same.

The battle had run late into the night, and a new day promised—or threatened, perhaps, to dawn.

It was not too late, however, to join him.

Clarity, and a Turning Point

Xiuyang sat at her desk, faced with two big decisions—first, the school faculty was asking the students if they wished to keep their memories of everything that had happened in the past two weeks, or if they wanted to return to blissful ignorance. Xiuyang found the whole thing unconscionable—if forcing the Trials and Mano e Mano upon the students was being inhumanely cruel to children, erasing their memories of the riots was an equal but opposite offense of infantilizing them. Of course, Xiuyang would choose to keep hers. She couldn't imagine how she'd react to the knowledge that something so monumentally important had happened, and that she had chosen to forget about it and now had to rely on secondhand information.

Was a Xiuyang who had forgotten the past two weeks—or even just the most traumatic events that had taken place then—even the same person? There was surely no guarantee that she would be happier. If anything, her resentment and self-loathing would only deepen for making such a weak decision. That was to say nothing of the possibility of having other memories conveniently tampered with, or rifled through like so much private correspondence. What if they discovered that she was a Facemimic? What if they learned of her plans? Her actions had surely made her new enemies, and she couldn't afford to be at such an insurmountable disadvantage as to have them know of her schemes, and for her to forget that they even existed. The only real question was whether or not it was a genuine choice. Was there an unstated threat that, should she choose to retain her memories, she could become a target?

Bah. If there was a political target on her back, it was only a slightly larger one than she was born with. She would take her chances—which just left the matter of the piece of paper she was currently poring over carefully. Even as the school sent out inquiries regarding the mammoth in the room that was the revolution and change in management, they also sent out inquiries regarding Tan-Zeno positions. Xiuyang was faced with a kind of dilemma; did she really want to dabble in a teaching career? Not really—but the need to impress her family and Ciro, who she hoped would become family sometime next year, continued to hover over her and weigh on her mind from time to time. Additionally, there were the benefits it could bring—potential access to forbidden magics which could cure her defects and allow her to become a match for Juulet. Everything she could want was being dangled before her like a carrot on a stick; the only issue was whether or not the school at large saw her as a liability, which she would only know if she sent in an application. A rejection, in itself, would present potentially valuable information.

She found herself filling out the form, slowly and thoughtfully, a process that took all the hours of Oraff and continued well into the hours of Eshiran. As she did, she found herself deciding upon reasons why she might actually be good at teaching, and find some enjoyment in it. Of course, she had lied about her mana type, and made no indication that she'd received any instruction in blood magic. Technically, it wasn't a lie—as she hadn't had her level of skill in the school officially evaluated in any capacity. Overall, though, she was surprised at how truthful her statements felt when they were finally finished, and had found reasons to be optimistic about the prospect by the end. Maybe... I really need this. Something to call my very own—an important role to play, where others can rely on me. She carefully folded up the form and waxed the envelope shut. For a moment, she simply held it in her hand, letting time pass her by while her third cup of undrunken tea grew cold, and simply breathed in and out.

Accepting a job offer from Ciro would be yet another easy decision, in a long line of easy decisions. She enjoyed working with him, but that was what she wanted to do—work with him, and not for him. Already, she caught herself relying on him too much. No matter how long the past few weeks had felt—(if only their time together would always feel so long!)—it was still such a short amount of time. A little voice in her head told her to slow down, told her that things were moving too fast. Whether it was a voice of reason or a voice of cowardice, she couldn't yet be sure. Another voice told her other things: that she was a worthless girl, growing more and more dependent on her boyfriend by the day, already irresponsibly deep in his debt, and that someday he would surely collect, just as any sensible businessman would. She needed to do more—be more than she was: ruthless, brave, strong, smart, beautiful.

The envelope she held in her hand represented a difficult decision, and challenges ahead.

Unlike before, she would make this decision, and face these challenges of her own will.

The Hourglass Order

Lost and Found, the Voice of an Unyielding Will

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Dami's Judgment, Vyshta's Mercy

Dami's Judgment (Featuring New! Forum Only Content!)

O girl, who wears the face of a devil. Thy heart is more rose than briar. What hast thou learned, ye who study not the things of love and beauty?

O foolish girl, more clever than wise. Thy hands are stained of murder. Hast thou forgotten thine oath?

Woe, O girl; thy heart is full of beauty, but thine eyes do not see it. Thou art quick of wit, but slow of learning. Thy hands cling tightly to power, but are swift to relinquish morality.

And what is this? Thy Valor is acknowledged before Eshiran, yet it availeth thee naught. Thy feet are swift unto retreat; the strength to stand against thine enemies hath departed thee. Thou scatter amongst the rocks and kill like a coward.

The hour of Eshiran is upon thee; yea, and the hour of Dami's Judgment approacheth. Reflect now, thou sluggard: death has spared thee, but what of war? The hour of thy greatest trial approaches, and what hast thou done to prepare?

Thou art a fool; yea, thou keepest the company of fools.

Thou art a fool; yea, thine ears hear only the advice of the foolish.

Thou art foolish.
Thou art foolish; yea, thou art a fool.

---

It was unwise the traverse the desert during the day, Xiuyang knew—but her body demanded rest and cared not for the hour. Most of the night was wasted—or had an entire day passed? Regardless, she was still here, and the yasoi from before were still stalking her. Casting a veil about herself with arcane magic to obscure her form, she brought what little kinetic magic she knew to bear her weight and keep herself off the sand, lest it give away her position. For the hours of Ipte, she was well concealed. During the hours of Shune, her kinetic magic failed her due to her inexperience and exhaustion.

The hours of Oraff would test her. The cold and unyielding desert was beginning to turn mercilessly hot. Wiping sweat from her brow, she soon realized that she was being tracked. An enemy was approaching—weak, but able to call for reinforcements if she were to be discovered. May Oraff forgive me for what I'm about to do. This blood is on your hands, Juulet. With only this thought to quell her rapidly beating heart, she ambushed the yasoi from around a boulder and silenced his cry for help—not with her unreliable kinetic magic, but with blood magic, tearing the vocal cords right out of his throat. He collapsed, dead amongst the brush of the hidden oasis. The hours of Oraff would pass, not without sacrifice—but it was better to sacrifice this one on the altar of her survival, than for herself to be sacrificed upon the altar of Juulet.

To her own disappointment, she had the presence of mind and the stomach to hide the body, feeding it to a predator she'd sensed in the waters nearby. She looked away, gritting her teeth at the horrible sounds of splashing and tearing of flesh. To kill a yasoi, during the hours of Oraff, with blood magic no less. Her stomach turned, but she could not muster enough bile to lose her lunch. She poured one out for the poor bastard, and moved on. She cried, not for her pursuer, but for her inability to reconcile her identity with this uncaring corner of the world. To survive was to kill, but to kill required the pacifist within to die. How many times had she looked down on others for fighting and killing—over "trinkets?" But if those trinkets helped one to fight and survive, what was the difference between that and this? A cynical part of her told her that she was a failure. Seviin, surely, would have... no, just what would she have done? Just let her pursuers do with her as they pleased? No. Self-defense was the only option, but to do so without killing required a level of strength that Xiuyang didn't have, and could never have.

BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THEM, YOU HAVE FAILED TO CULTIVATE STRENGTH.

Y̴̕͜O̵̬̅U̷̙͑R̶̜̂ ̵͖̀W̶̜͛Ë̵͕́Ȧ̶͕K̵͈̒N̸̗͘É̴͈S̴̫̏S̵͈̋ ̸͇͛I̷̱̋S̸̬͗ ̵͚͘M̵̻̾E̷̙̓R̷̡̈́E̶̠͗L̵̠̿Y̸̢͐ ̵̙́T̶̤̈H̶̲͛Ė̷͓ ̷͇̉R̵̼͘E̷̘̿S̵̛̭U̵̞͠Ļ̸̈́T̵̟͘ ̸̩͗Ö̷̫́F̴̛̯ ̵͚́Y̷͔͋Ǒ̵̮Ũ̷̹R̸̭̓ ̴̮̚Ǒ̵̻W̴̞̋N̵̛͚ ̴̧̐M̶̙͛O̶͇͝R̷̘̈Á̶͎L̵̯͑ ̶̺̚Ĭ̴͈N̵̖̓Ā̵̠Ḓ̷̛Ë̷̝́Q̴̲̐U̸̗͗Ḁ̸͋C̷͍̅Ȳ̸̙.̸̠̓

---

How she'd been a fool to dismiss, and at times curse, Eshiran. Yet still, the lady of death had heard her plea to be spared. It had to be purposeful. Someone had clearly tampered with the magics at play, giving Xiuyang an impossible edge. It couldn't have just been random chance. It had to mean something. As the hours of Eshiran dragged on, Xiuyang persevered, but the desert's heat took its toll. She began to hallucinate. At first they were mild and easily dismissed, but then, as she raised her head after covering some of her tracks, she caught a glimpse of a one-legged yasoi. She couldn't stop herself from screaming, and her sonic bubble failed. There was shouting in the distance, and her heart went cold. She ran, but exhaustion was catching up to her, and she found herself instinctively running downhill into a valley to try to lose them. She could go no further today; she'd have to find a nice rocky crag to sleep under.

Just as she'd found the perfect spot to hide, one of her pursuers caught up with her. Once again, she silenced his cries for help. It wasn't as clean of a job as the previous, and she found her hands trembling, her heart hesitating. Just as she was fighting off the part of her that still wanted to let him go, he charged at her in aberration-addled rage. Momentarily, Xiuyang stood frozen in fright, but just as he came within inches of her, she forced herself to act, finishing the botched job. This time, however, there was no time to hide the body. She fled further into the valley, abandoning the spot for now. She'd have to use her remaining strength to kite her enemies somewhere else first, then return here, and hope the yasoi wouldn't eagerly retread old ground.

The hours of Dami dragged on as Xiuyang hid under her rock, concealed by illusions, drinking to the very limits of what her Devourer manas would allow just to stay hydrated, drifting in and out of consciousness. As the heatstroke came down gradually, her drunkenness went up, and several apparitions visited her. First came Ingrid—an example of, in her mind, someone who had properly cultivated their strength. Unlike herself, few would mess with Ingrid. She didn't have to skulk around, disguised as other students just to feel safe in the same school as Juulet. She was a reminder of what true strength looked like, a monument to Xiuyang's foolishness for spurning the study of atomic magic. Next was Jamboi, holding the familiar staff of the monkey king. Funny—she'd picked it out for him, but ended up keeping it, out of fear of her own weakness after what happened in ReTan. If Juulet had stolen it from her and given it to him, perhaps that was right and fair. He was a worthy wielder, unlike her, who would probably just smack herself in the head with it if she tried anything spectacular. Gods, how she'd messed up. If she had just known her place and kept her head down, she could be sharing a drink with Ciro on a beach instead of drying up alone under a rock with bugs for company. With that thought in her mind, she passed out.

Ellermane Bleu

Many faces passed by Ciro as he waited, watching for Xiuyang to appear. Some were his fellow students, others were familiar faces and a few were obvious first-timers. It was past peak hours and most of those faces were leaving, but a few did arrive. All of them were men, and one was carrying a bag, but none of them were Xiuyang. He certainly hadn't overestimated her capabilities; he knew she was a regular through his contacts.

Perhaps she had decided not to show up, then—or maybe she was the type of girl who liked to keep a man waiting. Though, she didn't seem like it...

Unbeknownst to him, Xiuyang had already arrived. Hidden away in a privacy booth in a back room, she pulled her qipao out of her bag, along with a shawl and face veil. In the end, she was still too shy to show her face, even though it wasn't really "hers." She had removed her thresher-hunting mask and bandages, and that was enough bravery for tonight.

Now came the hard part.

She covered her mouth with both of her hands as she transformed into Desideria Solari. It took every ounce of her iron will not to make a single sound. It wasn't as bad as facemimicking anyone else, but it still wasn't easy. After her minor ordeal, she got dressed, and finished the job by using her Binding magic to destroy the ratty-looking disguise and bag.

There was just one thing left to do.

Peeking her head out, she checked to make sure Ciro was looking the other way. She paused, with a mischievous thought that she might wait until she was just a little bit late, to see if he'd keep waiting. In the end, though, she was simply too curious. He might wait—but she could not. She crept up behind him, intent on sticking the rose right into the curls of his hair. Charmed, Messer Volta, she would say, her voice full of childish mirth as she giggled at his look of surprise. Such was the girl's plan, and a Solari's plans often went off without a hitch.

"Oh! Ciao, Bella!" He was sipping wine at his booth. Earlier, he'd been meeting with the sorts of people people met with in places like these, and that was to say the back rooms.

Gently, he placed the glass on the tabletop. A smile appeared on his slightly too-pretty face. "I see you've made it, and just on time." He didn't ask. He simply poured her a glass and bade her sit across from him. It was a subtle thing, but she could feel an anti-sonic bubble drop around them. He didn't comment on it, of course. Neither would she. "This is a good vintage: Château Morcand Ellermane Blue, DZ45. Has a sort of warmth the Island itself always lacked, if you ask me." He smirked conspiratorially. "Not that either of us was around back then."

If Xiuyang expected Ciro to be waiting for her at the entrance, as though in assumption that it would be her first time at the Groove, she was mistaken. So it was that she found him in the back, tucked away in a booth where he had a perfect view of the whole room—at least, in theory. His attention seemed absorbed by something else. She crept up behind him, just outside his peripheral vision, arms locked playfully behind her back, her eyes full of mischief. The rose suited him better than herself, she mused.

"Was there any doubt I'd show?" she teased as she took her seat with a nod of gratitude. At the introduction of their drink for the evening, her eyes widened with delight. "Oh, wow. That is..." She didn't finish that statement; there was no need. An invisible smirk was evident as she glanced around, as if to ensure that no one was listening. Then, she leaned in close. "...How much?" she whispered, dead serious, as though the alcohol would be the most interesting thing he had to offer tonight.

She waited a beat to let the absurdity of her jape sink in. Then, she giggled with glee, accepting the glass. She took one slow sip, savoring the taste. As ever, she drank without fear; she didn't bother to check her glass for anything. She played a fool, perhaps, to mask her confidence, but behind the veil, her smile was evident in her eyes and the sound of her voice. "You certainly know how to build excitement, handsome. I can hardly wait a moment longer to see where you're going with this." There was an eager look in her eyes, to be sure, but at that moment it was distinctly mercantile. She was expecting to do business. At the same time, though, she was dressed to impress. The golden collar and hemming of her qipao glittered subtly in the low light, accented by the floral patterns bearing the warm colors of autumn. A stray finger idly played with the tassels of her shawl as she waited for Ciro to make his next move.

...

Vyshta's Mercy (Survivorgirl)

"Oira Luuntai! You have done good making it so far. Though as the Perrench say, La cavalerie est arrivée!" He gave one of his goofy grins towards her. "There is probably something similar in Revidian and ReTannese too."

Jamboi was here. Jamboi was here? It wasn't a hallucination?!

"...J-ham-bhoi?" came the raspy reply, with a barely-suppressed cough. The true voice of Xiuyang, which only Ashon would recognize, came from beneath her hat. "It's too late..." She coughed.

"...for heat stroke. You're really here..?"

"We got the rest of the crew too. It seems you got a little band out here on a Saving Xiuyang mission." He called the others over, especially towards Trypano and Roslyn, "Looks like you might need to patch her up with that magic of yours. I want her as good as new."

Trypano approached, examining the situation before her. Performing a preliminary scan of her vitals she extended her senses through Xiuyang's body, looking for damages or other distortions to her body as she drew from her surroundings, readying to restore her flesh.

Hearing Ashon's shouts, Roslyn shortly joined the rest. Relief spread across her face at seeing the huddled figure half buried in the sand. She glanced in her medical satchel while she spoke.

"I know a decent level of binding and brought bandages in case. I used the skinglue in the canon so I can't 'sap' together any severed limbs."

Ingrid's cool persona gave way with a sigh, even if Xiuyang was injured, she was alive. She pulled out a mask from her bag and offered it to Xiuyang, "I heard your mask got smashed, so I brought you a new one. It's imbued to help with things." Ingrid made sure to look away if she would grab it. Whatever was under the mask was for Xiuyang to know.

Tyrel stood back and watched the joyous reunion. She managed a small but genuine smile and gave Xiuyang her privacy. She understood a thing or two about being self-conscious. When it was appropriate to do so, she inclined her head in Xiuyang's direction. "Good to see you are okay."

Trypano administered healing efforts onto Xiuyang, fully restoring her bodily integrity as well as hydrating her sufficiently, scanning once more to ensure no lingering symptoms persisted.

"T-Trhy-pano? Rosl-hn?" Xiuyang coughed. A bloodied, bandaged hand reached out blindly and took the mask from Ingrid, then retreated into the darkness. The coughing abruptly stopped as she took long, slow, even breaths. "Fucksake. I'm not dying, you guys," she chuckled, rather unconvincingly. "The air here, it's just terrible. Stinks like death. I can barely breathe without this thing. Ingrid, you're a blessing. This... This means so much more to me than you could ever know." She got a bit misty eyed.

For almost a full minute, she simply lay there and let Trypano go to work. Aside from being battered and bruised, a few scrapes and cuts here and there, and being totally exhausted, she was more or less in top shape. Trypano could obviously see that she had subsisted on nothing but alcohol for nearly two days, further confirming the Devourer theory.

Trypano examined her, and noticed something odd, but couldn't quite determine what it was just yet. Her bandages seemed to be imbued with some kind of magic that interfered with her attempts to examine her more closely. Being damaged, she could inspect Xiuyang's injuries, and confirm that the Devourer blood she found earlier belonged to her. She could also see scarring on her throat, which may have something to do with her inability to speak properly without one of these enchanted masks. Though, unhealed scars on a binder was a bit of a mystery in itself.

Sleep tempted Xiuyang several times throughout the process, but she managed to force herself to stay awake. If she allowed herself to fall asleep, would she wake up to find it was all just a dream? That couldn't happen. She was losing the war of attrition, losing her wits and her energy as her pursuers refused to allow her any rest. "Somehow, with all of you here, I think I'd be fine even if I was actually dying," she japed.

"But, I..." She froze. Behind Ashon, Trypano, Roslyn and Ingrid, there was another figure—a one-legged one. For a moment, she shook, but as she looked up... "Tyrel," she breathed, sighing in relief. "...You're here too?!" The sudden realization seemed to energize her. Now she knew she wasn't dreaming. She crawled out of her crevice, looking filthy and ridiculous, covered in dust, plants and bugs.

It made one wonder just what she was hiding from.

Hmm... A curious state indeed. It was little mystery that Xiuyang was purposefully concealing her state of being. Given her interest in her research and the possible revelations their book may hold it was clear that she was concealing something of a physical nature. Given how it was untreated despite being a binder she concluded that it was probably something inherent to the blood. Perhaps a malformation of the flesh such as Penny's leg was, or a rare mana virus she'd yet to study. Either which way, she had blood sampled already and there were other times to seek deeper insight. Not here, not now. Extrication was their main prerogative here.

"After ye' get yer' bearings feel free t' bring us up to speed on yer' situation." Trypano spoke, her hatted accent kicking up once again. "On our side'a the situation the school authorities only found a mound set up where 'ya were last at. Not pressin' the issue further they declared you dead and washed their hands of it. We and a few of th' others picked up where they left off and traced th' temporal signal out t' here." Having given Xiuyang a quick recap of the aftermath of her disappearance Trypano turned and looked out, surveying the environment as the wind swept by, long crimson hair dancing in the moonlight below her black bowler cap.

"Ah'll admit ya hid well... almost too well."

Roslyn pulled her hand from her medical kit when she spied Trypano tending to Xiuyang. She had forgotten the tall woman's mention of being a healer. Her eyes lingered on Xiuyang as the woman coughed and placed on her new mask. Despite her bravo, Roslyn saw the cracks in it. Her mother often did the same thing especially during her last years.

She shook herself back to the present, smiling at seeing her friend alive.

"Umm, maybe we should get moving? I don't think a group this big will go unnoticed and I'd rather avoid trouble. Do we have a way back?"

Xiuyang's eyes darkened after Trypano's explanation, but she didn't seem surprised. "I didn't think anyone would come. Using portals is too dangerous now." She tried to dust off her robes a little. "It was Juulet. I tried to reason with her, but it was useless." She left out the reason why she attacked her. It was pointless, though. Her secret would be out soon anyway. Juulet surely wouldn't keep it to herself, no matter how badly it might have appeared to rattle her in the moment. Xiuyang could only picture her laughing it off after the fact. Should she just tell them, first? Control the narrative, as her father taught?

She ran through the possibilities in her mind, of what might happen if they all learned she was a Facemimic. It was fitting, perhaps, that a mixed bag like her had a mana type that was considered blessed, and one considered cursed or demonic. As she considered how each of them may react, she realized that someone was missing from this reunion.

Before she could ask anyone where Ciro was, however, there was movement. All of them sensed it. The yasoi approaching them felt no need to be stealthy. There were at least a dozen of them, and three were drawing at over a 9 RAS level.

"Elaz! Ven'sali!" their apparent leader shouted.

"Anax'sali!" another called out.

"Moad, daxtoil yanii!" cried a third.

Xiuyang was drawing too, now. "What are they saying?" She grimaced, remembering the body she had no time to hide. The others would have seen it on their way into the valley. "I... If it's about the man I killed... I had to kill him. Tyrel, I had to. If I didn't, they—" She swallowed. Then, her eyes landed upon one of the weaker yasoi. She glared at him, her hand twitching as she held back her murderous intent. "Dog," she snarled.

"We didn't have any issues coming through." Roslyn said, giving Xuiyang an odd look. She didn't understand what Xiuyang meant about the portals being dangerous. Those were just rumors, right? Before she could ask anything else, shouts and rushing footsteps caught her attention. Her eys turned to see a group of natives approaching them. Everything about their body language screamed danger to her frightened instinct. She tried to translate the language spoken, but she knew only three words.

"I only recall the words: there, die, and human," Roslyn regretted not knowing more, "I really need to study harder. But I don't think die is a good thing. Are we fighting or running?"

She couldn't help stepping closer to Xiuyang. Her hand canon stayed at her side, lowered to the ground but ready to fire. This looked really bad.

Ingrid was about to pull out some clothes and water for her. Who wants to return to the school looking a mess. It would only satisfy Xuiyang's attacker to see the impact it had. The name was of no surprise but it still stirred Ingrid's anger.

Juulet had done so many things already. But this was a blatant attempt at murder. Not even Benny crossed that line on school grounds.

Well, not so explicitly at least.

Either way, Juulet needed to be removed, either by the school throwing her out now that there could be testimony or by an unfortunate accident. But now an issue showed its head, some strong yasoi were making their way to us. "If we could we should run," Ingrid looked at Tyrel as she was the temporal mage here, "And if not we should make time to run."

This could be some hell of a practice for Mano e Mano, Ingrid grimly thought.

Ashon stretched as he positioned himself between the Yanii and the other Yasoi, giving Luuntai's friends the space to attend to her. As he gazed at the intruders, he cast a disdainful look over them and casually waved his hand dismissively. "A’lash, pelosh joi tiin. Exi," he declared, slamming his fist against his chest with a force reminiscent of a gorilla. "Yanii tox Jamboi'Ismax."

With a confident motion, he gestured toward Tyrel. "Yrash'toshdon ruii laz." He continued to stand with a commanding presence, a stalwart guardian who stood as a bulwark against the threat they pose.

"You needn't justify yourself. I ain't no stranger to th' state of Yasoi affairs." She dismissed Xiuyang's attempts to justify the situation with the body. She wasn't pegged as one to kill wantonly and after her mission in Rettan it would take a far more severe instance of moral degeneracy to raise her concern.

Looking up at their greeting party she stood and was slowly, discretely drawing power. A fight wasn't unlikely and unless their lanky accompaniment were somehow more persuasive than she'd credited them for then the need for some buffing and general medical service would soon follow.

"I beg you," Tyrel said in yasoi, "allow us to discuss this as people and not fight as animals." She nonetheless drew, and drew, and drew up to nearly her full capacity. "You would not want to be treated as animals, would you?"

Xiuyang considered Roslyn and Ingrid's words. The smart option was to run, surely. However, a primal, enraged part of her also wanted to fight—if not to kill, then certainly to put the fear of divine retribution into these animals that had chased her for nearly two days, and never stopped coming. At some point, a group of six had become a hunting party of more than double that. There was not an ounce of sympathy among them for a displaced Huusoi: they looked at her like she was a dangerous pest at best, and comparable to a prey animal at worst.

While she was caught in her indecisiveness, Ashon and Tyrel tried to negotiate with words she couldn't follow. A few of the less aberration-addled Yasoi were intimidated by Tyrel's drawing capacity, but an insane pair of addicts mirrored her gesture, and a third one followed suit, all of them drawing near or into the 9 RAS range. That was when a decision was made for them: Mr. Solari's hired hands all charged at the Yasoi party, unwilling to let these monsters draw in any more power. As one of them turned to face Xiuyang, the Yasoi in front of him vanished without a trace.

"Run, milady! We'll cover your es—"

Instantly, the man and his partner were decapitated. A punch that Xiuyang couldn't see sent the man's head flying right past her own. Then, she saw her own head fall right from her body—and recovered from her confusion just in time to realize that she was seeing the future, and dodge the incoming attack. She was approached by two of the Yasoi, a stronger one and a weaker one. For lack of a better weapon, she smacked the weaker one with her gourd in a panic, and cracked his skull open.

Something snapped inside Xiuyang's mind. This wasn't like her battle in ReTan, where only one or two of the most insane minds present there actually wanted to fight the students of Ersand'Enise, who were technically still children. It was a situation where even defeat may not have meant death, at least until the knower titan showed up. That was what she'd told herself after the fact, anyway, to cope with the stress.

This was a murderous mob of insane Yasoi.

It was kill or be killed—a free for all.

She screamed, and threw a chemically enhanced ball of flame at a second Yasoi. It burned her hands to do it without her wand, but she didn't care. It was one less pair of crazed, deranged, ravenous eyes.

It was one less "Juulet" in the world—and it felt good to be rid of him. If there had been a chance to flee, Xiuyang had missed it. She and her fellow students were surrounded.

A few of the Yasoi yowled out for help—but nobody came. While these hunters had been occupied chasing a Yanii with a face like a devil, others had dealt with one that had the face of an angel. Whether they were simply scared off, or rapt in the bliss of aberrations, or even dead didn't matter. Every other Yasoi for miles was quite indisposed to help the rather unfortunate hunting party. None of them would be laying a finger on Xiuyang.

Tyrel could see that these people were gone. The darklings had claimed them, as they claimed so many Consoi. She could also see that, deranged as they were, their magics were wild and unpracticed. "Everyone back from me!" she commanded. In truth, her heart was hammering. In truth, she knew that the combat training that had been drilled into her from girlhood was never meant to have been used. In truth, she doubted her substantial abilities and did not want to kill.

In truth, Tyrel was a killer.

The first imploded into shreds of skin and shards of bone. The second launched three arcane lances at her. She spun away from one, absorbed another, and the final one cleanly missed. She blasted him back with triple the energy and the last thing that he knew was heat. For a moment, that made the others think twice about attacking her. "Siip'najo taca!" came the shouts, but they swirled away from her like stupid, mocking poca-parrots. "Siip'najo yambiid!" they chorused. She saw an opportunity and lopped another's head off with a kinetic blade.

Some of the huusoi were struggling and, for a moment, she wondered why she was protecting them. They were so weak and they were her people's enemy. She shook her head visibly to clear it, knowing better, and focused on a new spell: Infinity Loop. Momentarily, as another fool made to approach the Living Goddess, a great burning aura of nuclear fire surrounded her person. He melted before he reached her with a strangled cry. "Oapen'ven!" she bellowed, "rey etuulan axuu'it joi! Vel rey joi moad."

Then, she felt them in the distance - at the far hazy edge of her energy senses: dozens more bodies, dozens more of these beasts coming towards her. There was no way they could possibly win a battle of attrition, and what would the cost be? The 'goddess' changed tactics. "Xiuyang!" she shouted, "Ingrid! Cover me! I'm going to get us out of here."

One of these enemies was unreasonably strong. She blasted away at a cornered Roslyn and Tyrel's heart skipped a beat. Then there was the second wave, approaching, about to enter the sensing range of her allies. They were all about to see how fucked they were.

She reached out for them and, for a moment, felt something unholy. She felt it and then... there was nothing.

Xiuyang's scream, followed by a fire ball was enough to jerk Roslyn back into the present. She raised the Smoking Bandit. A sticky goo splattered at the feet of a female attacker. She shrieked and struggled to free herself. However, her partner dissolved it effortlessly.

He inhaled then sent an ear shattering scream at Roslyn. She twisted her weapon to point at him, uttering a spell to redirect it. "Sonic Break!"

The spell broke through her defense. Roslyn's feet lifted and she flew back. Her body rolled cross the sands, coming to a stop a few meters from the group. Blood trickled from her ears as she got on to all fours. She shook her head clear and pushed onto her feet.

"I need to pay better attention to Mr. Secto during class." Roslyn mumbled.

She caught sight of movement in her peripheral. Two more Yasoi had joined her attacker. Roslyn grabbed her weapon and lifted it again. One rushed in with a gut wrench. Too fast! The girl clenched her teeth and braced for the impact. Suddenly they all evaporated into ashes when Tyrel turned her attention on them. Roslyn's face paled at the raw power demonstrated.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side, Tyrel." She managed to say then added. "I got an idea."

She dug in her satchel. Damn it, two of her bottles broke. The girl hoisted the remaining three up by their necks. With a deep breath, she drew. The air started to chill as she stole what little heat she could. Her manas stretched into the alcohol and shifted it into pure ethanol. Shaking them up to add heat, she warned her allies.

"Careful, these have a nice burn to them."

She chucked one bottle at the feet of the two of the remaining threats. Fire erupted before them, forcing them and others back. Roslyn readied the next before a Yasoi burst past the wall of flames and reached for her.

Fear had little place In Ingrid's hardened heart. How could a group of maddened Yasoi cause anything more than mild worry? Her infinity loop was long heating up before the battle commenced.

In an instance, the rock roared to life and the air around Ingrid distorted. Heat shed off of her just to be absorbed again. Ingrid did not let an ounce of energy go.

She threw herself at the stronger of the enemies, deep into their area. That distortion around Ingrid only grew until the air started to combust around her, sand glassing underneath her. A spark, a light, a plasmatic beam slammed into one. There was no torso left to to heal, only assortment of limbs.

Attacks of all types came at her and with a judicial stare, any matter disintegrated on trying to reach her. Her normal weakness to Internal was slashed by the amount of energy interference in the way.

She was unstoppable right now and Ingrid knew it. They weren't strong enough to stop her but Ingrid found herself not strong enough to wipe them out in a flash.

The Majesty she wore was now boring into her. She pressed and pushed herself to keep it up. It was her spear and shield. She needed to destroy them before it exhausted herself. And then Tyrel called out.

Ingrid recalled herself to block off a side of Tyrel. She didn't care to be commanded by Tyrel, having someone at the helm let her do what she was good at. Sandstone formed and shattered and froze until she was able to command a mighty jagged wall with Kinetic.

It shifted further, details etched in to the jagged sand, creating scales. It took the form of wither a Royal Sand Wyrm or Arrow Dragon. Ingrid was not good at faces. Either way it should give the Yasoi something to hit other than Tyrel.

In this nameless valley of Yarsoc, where Xiuyang would have otherwise met her end alone, the eclectic Fait Accompli fought as one coordinated unit. The Yasoi had several powerhouses to match their own, but they were wild and out of sync with each other. Tyrel and Ingrid fought off the strong, the distraction proving effective, while the rest banded together against the remaining enemies. The battle ended as quickly as it had began, the slaughter lasting no longer than a couple minutes.

Just when it seemed that enemy reinforcements might be coming, they suddenly vanished, leaving the six students as the only ones standing. All of the Solari mercenari and local Yasoi were dead.

All but one.

Xiuyang struggled with this last enemy like she had a vendetta. He tried to use his magic against her, but she drew it away to nothing every time. With binding and chemical magics, she wore him down with her bare fists, until, suddenly, he gained the upper hand. He got one last swipe at her face which had barely missed before Tyrel got a clear shot and essentially vaporized him.

"Thank you--" Xiuyang exhaled in that raspy voice as she caught her breath. As soon as the words left her mouth, her eyes went wide with fear as she realized the Yasoi had snatched the mask from her.

What Fait Accompli saw now was the true face of Xiuyang Solari: though she had the eyes of a woman, the lower half of her face was that of a man. It was a face Roslyn recognized as one she had seen recently. Xiuyang's face was disfigured indeed--by the face of her own father.

Worse still, her body seemed to be trying to fight off the familiar visage as though it were an infection. There were several scars across her face, two of them right at the edge of where her mask met flesh. One crossed the bridge of her nose right under her eyes, dividing her face almost neatly in half.

"NO!!" she suddenly screeched, reaching up with both arms to cover her face. "Don't--look--at me!" she managed to sputter between coughs as she scrambled to find the lost mask in a panic, hyperventilating in between each coughing fit. "It's not--not what you think..." she sobbed as she looked away, having found the mask. She put it to her face quickly, taking deeper breaths as she slowly steadied herself.

As the melee initiated everyone took to blade and spell as they engaged the enemies. She herself knew her position, to mend and block attacks from the enemy. The others did what they did best: Murder. Yasoi bend, rent apart and burned until they ceased and yet it did little to dull the fervor of the other ones. Annoyingly one decided to engage her himself. Dashing at her with a long blade he attempted to impale her, only instead the blade slid off the handle as she consumed a single sliver of the blade's matter, right at the base. She had snatched the yasoi attacker by his throat, lifting him from his feet with one arm like he was a poorly weighted tankard of ale raised in toast.

She passed only a brief glance at the struggling addict before tossing him into a fire that Roslyn had started. Just more screaming to fill the cries in the air as she turned to stall one of the heavier casters of the Yasoi group. They employed blood magic crudely, basic techniques that were easily dismantled no matter how high their RAS might of been. Without much way to harm them it was only a matter of time before their own caster's power consumed their foes.

Despite their efforts it would have seemed that the Yasoi had done more damage than she would have given them credit for. Their numbers availed them only in slaying the mercenaries that were in tow, the students proving far too formidable for the yasoi regardless of their numerical superiority.

Of course she then turned her attention to Xiuyang who had, in the excitement, forgotten her mask. The state of her face indicated a unique condition, something that Trypano had already gleamed but could now see in full effect. Xiuyang herself however reacted as though their stares burned her as an arcane lance would, reeling in horror with the realization of her own error. Despite how she might of feared that she was in some way a monster Trypano's expression remained cold, stoic as ever. She simply tipped her hat up, giving her a few seconds to steady herself before looking straight through the sockets of her mask into her panicked eyes.

"I know what y' must be thinkin': 'That 'yer somethin' else 'cause of all that, some sort'a ungodly mistake p'haps. Folk's 'round you could never understand that b'neath that skin the actual you resides, right?" She reached up and casually swept aside some of her crimson red hair in a symbolic gesture. She took a couple steps forward, leaving enough space for the others but staying relatively within arms reach of her. She cast a probing glance at the others, a warning to those who might of been ready to judge Xiuyang for this, before looking back and addressing her once more.

"Tell me this: Who do you think y' are? 'Cause I'm looking at you an' I just see Xiuyang."

Roslyn stood there, her eyes locked onto the familiar sight. Her teeth bit her lower lip as she examined her feelings. A primal part of her recoiled at the sight seeing it as unnatural and confusing. She swallowed down that sensation when it became a hardened lump in her throat. With a deep breath, she let her face relax. At least she knew she wasn't crazy when she saw those eyes shift colors. Still it felt like she was missing pieces of a mystery and that sensation gnawed at her. She approached Xiuyang with hesitation in her form. Not from fear of what the girl looked like, but concern for her well being.

She caught Trypano's words and shook her head. "To be honest, I'm not sure I can put my thoughts into words right now. They are too jumbled up and confused."

Roslyn turned back to Xiuyang, "At first, I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me. It's a bit of a relief to know otherwise, but is this why you were in pain back at the Society Faire? What happened?"

Ingrid was utterly shocked. Xuiyang was a man?! But he's so small, is he a runt? Ingrid considered it, thinking about his athletic prowess and interest in Trypano. I mean it was weird but, hey, not the worst. Not my colors but to each's own right?

No, that's stupid. Xuiyang is no man, maybe? Gods, the stubble is throwing me off. Just take it slow Ingy, she is Xuiyang, your friend.

"Come now, ain't nobody here will hurt you," she stayed a decent step away not to crowd. "We came all the way here for you, and we are here for you." Ingrid kept her voice steady and soft, not trying to demean her but hopefully give the tenderness she needs. "Do you think you can tell us what's happening Xuiyang?"

"But there are people who would kill me for looking like this. I'm... a Facemimic," she confessed, as there was little purpose to be gained from hiding it now. "Blessed and cursed blood in the same body—most people would consider that an 'ungodly mistake.' Why shouldn't it be? You can see the result," she replied bitterly. "I'm... a freak, and I'll be one forever if I can't learn how to fix this. I can't rely on anyone else. If this secret gets out before I can cure it, I'm ruined." Tears rolled down her face. "...and Juulet knows. The bitch is probably telling everyone right now."

"Well, we have more than a handful of skilled binders here, don't we?" It was Tyrel, not the sort to let Xiuyang wallow, no matter how meaningful. "I don't see any reason we should just accept the bad things in life and let them lay us low." She took a couple of steps forward before stopping and resting her stump on a crutch handle, as was her habit. "And I'm not so bad with time, you know." She took in the others with a sweeping glance. "I should be able to give you some time to work, maybe even anchor a few errors away."

Tyrel shrugged, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Juulet can be a petulant child, so then let her be made a liar, too, if she's going to be vicious like that." She looked meaningfully at the others.

Still, they had not gotten to the bottom of whatever had splattered those other onrushing yasoi, but it hadn't seemed to target them and, for now, that was enough. Handling her crutches again, Tyrel took a couple of steps back, planting her foot in the dirt. "We're going to try, at least. I will accept nothing else."

A spark. "That..." *won't be enough,* her battered heart instinctively commanded her to say, but she choked it back. Binding *wouldn't* be enough—but Tyrel was a yasoi. She understood as much, and it didn't need to be said. Here in Yarsoc, in the middle of nowhere, far away from the school and the church and any judgmental eyes, they were free to use any magic they pleased. "It might... work," she managed to say, her tone unconvinced but her eyes filled with hope.

It would be an arduous process, she warned, and one she didn't wish for Ashon to see. The "infection" had spread to her upper torso and much of her right arm. She had already tried to modify her own vocal cords long ago, with visibly disastrous results.

Ashon stood guard while the others worked. Tyrel set the temporal anchor. Roslyn held Xiuyang's hand and dulled the pain with her chemical magic, so she could focus on her temporal precognizance and direct Ingrid and Trypano as they used their respective magics. Ingrid used controlled atomic to destroy the invasive tissue's ability to replicate itself, while Trypano constructed new flesh in the likeness of Xiuyang's own.

The first attempt was a complete disaster. The second was almost perfect, but the "scars" proved immovable. Everyone agreed that they should try again, so they did: a third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh time produced wildly unpredictable results. The eighth attempt, the most arduous yet most promising of all ended up nearly identical to the second, and by then, all were exhausted. "Stop, please! No more! This... is enough," Xiuyang panted, catching her breath. Breathing came slightly easier now, she noticed.

Looking at the image of her new face, she reflected on these friends she'd gathered, most of them quite recently. They'd given their best efforts for her sake, selflessly and at great personal risk—something she could not yet imagine doing, herself. They didn't owe her a perfect face. They'd done enough.

For the first time in a long while, she felt the smoothness of her skin, the roundness of her chest, and heard the sound of her own voice, rather than her mother's, when she spoke. "You could never understand how, grateful I am," she sobbed as she smiled. "I thought I was going to die here, alone, and now I have my *life* back."

She embraced Tyrel and squeezed, as hard as she could—with no fear of judgment, of some horrible secret being discovered. She hugged every one of them, and showed the smile that she never could from behind a mask. The scars were ugly things, but they were an almost insignificant price to pay to be allowed to be who she was, with no concessions. This moment, these friends, and her smile—these were beautiful things.

The Face of Triumph is a Warm Smile

A Cup of Warm Tea, Right Now (Thieving Cherune Final Round, Featuring! A Previously DM-Exclusive Teaser!)

Early in the hours of Shune, there was a gentle knock on the door of where the Soul Sisters were staying. It was Xiuyang, having miraculously returned from her involuntary pilgrimage to Yarsoc. "Hey. I missed you in the last event. Thought I'd pay a visit before the big reveal."

Mio opened the door to Xiuyang, smiling brightly as she came forward to embrace her lightly on her shoulders. "They said you disappeared, what happened?" She showed concern towards the girl.

"Juulet happened," she replied darkly. "But I'm... I'll be alright." She sighed heavily, her voice trembling only slightly. "She didn't get what she wanted out of me," she said simply, a hint of a smile in her eyes. "I'll be more than alright, in fact. May I come in?"

"Oh, the yasoi, right?" She shook her head as she recalled the Yasoi, she knows what their kind is like, especially after Ai Medda. "Sure, come on in. Shall I put the tea on?"

"Would you please? I'd love a cup of warm tea, right now." Now, she was definitely smiling. She tapped her fingertips together as she waited at the table for Mio to return. "I pulled some strings to be able to do one of the Trials with you. I'm sad that I missed it, but thanks to that, I have a different kind of opportunity, now."

She sipped her tea from beneath the veil on her face. It suddenly dawned on Mio that she wasn't wearing her mask. "My teammates were so busy trying to find me, they didn't realize that you had our box the whole time. I was hoping to get it from you, but more than that, I wanted to meet at least one more time."

She moved over to pour green tea out for Xiuyang, though pleasantly surprised she was without her mask. "Are you here to return my hat?" Her tone has a teasing element to it.

"We encountered a quite... persistent person during the event, who threatened to endanger the plan. It took your replacement to get rid of her. I imagine boxes were the least of their concerns."

"Yeah, I heard about that. I'll need to be aware of her pernicious nature in the future. Sorry that you had to deal with her." She scratched her chin, contemplating. In a way, her survival and her current circumstances were partially owed to the beanie that Taleja traded her for, but both of them probably imagined that they got the better deal.

"I could return your hat, but I think I'll keep it." She winked. "It'll remind me of what you told me last time. Those words are priceless to me. Instead, I have something better to show you..."

And while it took a bit of arcane trickery to conceal the scars, she showed it to Mio first.

"My biggest smile! How's that? Is that worth a box?" She chuckled.

"Words... ... oh, those great words of sage wisdom were discovered baked in a fortune cookie." She playfully gave a wink at Xiuyang, as she played them down. Though, obviously she took the compliment to heart.

She smiled in return as the other girl showed her expression. "Not quite enough, I insist you write to me, from time to time. If you want the box." Her expression showing some deviousness to it.

Xiuyang shrugged. "Nothing new under the sun. But to me, they're your words, because you were the first to say them to me."

She took another sip of her tea, and grinned impishly in reply. "I'd like that very much, but... What should I write to you about?"

"How life is treating you. I like to hear from my fans. Can tell me about any boys you like, which is your favourite song, anything in your adventures." Mio moved over towards the box as she placed it on her own lap as she sat down. She got a cloth as she decided to place some mooncakes within it as she bundled it on top as well.

"I get mooncakes too?" Xiuyang replied, rubbing her hands together in a rare display of overt eagerness. "You drive a hard bargain, mio Mio. I'm usually not a very open person, but I'll try to change that, starting with you. You got yourself a deal."

She stood up and opened her arms up. "Here, for the mooncakes—and because I feel like it. I chickened out last time."

The two shared a brief hug, and some more idle conversation. Today was a good day.

Thieving Cherune, The Final Trial (Forum Only Content, Again! Aren't I Generous?)

The clues hidden within the Cherune boxes led Fait Accompli to the Forked Tower. There, they raced against competing teams Rock and Stone and Huggy Bears to be the second to arrive and solve a riddle, behind distant first place winners Vyshta's More Favoured. The riddle in question was:

Riddle me this, for Shune-Zept's sake: I cannot be used before I break. What am I?

Immediately, Xiuyang thought of an egg. You couldn't eat the shell, obviously—but wait, you could cook with an egg with the shell still on, and wouldn't making hardboiled eggs count as a use? Her mind strayed to other things that required breaking them in order to be used. She strained her mind to think of something less obvious, less childish. She was afraid to be wrong about something like a simple riddle, with Ciro standing right there. She vaguely recalled something, perhaps some piece of sirrahi technology that glowed when cracked, but she could hardly name it if she didn't remember what it was called, and it might be too obscure for something like a riddle. There was something else that came to mind, of course, but it couldn't be that, right? Her cheeks turned a light pink at the thought of even suggesting it. No, leave it to the Huggy Bears to guess something so obscene, and, if they were right, she supposed they deserved their prize for being so daring.

Right as she was about to give in to a trial-and-error approach, Marz gave the correct answer: an egg.

Seriously? The child's answer was the correct one? I want to crawl into a hole and disappear...

Mano e Mano

Gathering Intel: Shadow Wizard Money Gang (Forum Only Content!)

Kaureerah (Includes a Song!)

Atomic Mage Roulette

There beneath those hoodies are... I really don't know who.
It could be your fifth-grade teacher. It could be your mother too.

Five kittens in a trench coat, for a sum of twenty-five
Do we even know, for Oraff's sake, if any are alive?

Ohhhhh, Shadow Wizard Money Gang, they love casting spells
They love blasting other teams and ringin' all their bells.

Who's to say who's who and who's to say what's what.
I only know the following. I'll tell you for a cut!

Blue was a ringer, a real humdinger, hittin' hard in the two-vee-twos,
Yellow was next, and I was a bit vexed to see him make another team totally lose
Their final head was burning red and he put 'em to bed in the one-vee-one.
Looked real mean, except for green. Atomic mage roulette just-a doesn't seem fun!

Xiuyang gave Kaureerah a little round of applause, and thanked her in kind:

I must confess, my singing has no flavor

and my sense of the arts is quite dull.

My rhymes are a mess, but when shown a favor

a good merchant always repays in full.

With that, she gave Kaureerah a mooncake. She blinked and bit into it. "Oh, thenk yoo, fren! Eye weel bee caulleng thet een et saum point." She winked.

"Oh yeah?" Xiuyang gave Kaureerah a sly little smile back. She knew what she was doing. "Something you like, besides Mio's handmade mooncakes?"

"Well..." the performer began with a conspiratorial smile. "Eye woold lauv en eentroodauctioon too yaur femoous frends." She held up the moon cake. "Eencloodeng te waun whoo mede thees deleecioous theng."

"One backstage pass not enough for you?" Xiuyang teased. "I do have more of these mooncakes. Mio made me promise to write her letters every now and then. You should, too. We can send them together—a package deal. Open the replies together, too. Share all the juicy Soul Sisters gossip," she offered.

Kaureerah took another bite and nodded. "Yoo aur e troo fren." She giggled. "Yoo knauw, saumtheng else Eye nooteeced wes thet their cloaks metched their main type auf megic, except faur red beeing Aurcene because there waus noo Aurenge end green naut beein Etaumeec." She shook her head. "Naut soore why, baut eet booged mee."

Maura (This Scene Gets Spicy!)

"Hey, Maura. While I have you... I don't suppose you've seen or heard anything that may explain why Shadow Wizard Money Gang is ranking so highly this year? Isn't it a little suspicious?" She ran a finger around the rim of her glass as she posed her somewhat evasive question.

"Well, we did spectate one of their matches," Maura offered in reply. “There may be information which could help.”

Xiuyang cracked a grin to hide her annoyance. "Make your demands, Maura." She gave in with a light sigh.

"We do not go around making demands. Xiuyang. You know us better than that," Maura cocked her head to the side, confused.

Xiuyang fought the urge to groan. She was not in the mood for trade offers. "I can offer you two things. Mio's autograph, or... information that will help you negotiate with the Sant'Agata Albignese Trading Company in future," she reluctantly offered. It felt like a truly pathetic offer, considering the circumstances. She wondered if Maura already knew about that, and while she felt bad about potentially 'selling' one of Mio's handwritten letters to her, there was virtually no price she wasn't willing to pay to win big in the Trials. Everything was at stake.

"We've booked the Soul Sisters for the grand opening of Longwan. We can arrange tickets for you, and a plus one?" she countered with a patient smile. "Information on a competitor may vary depending on what you're providing, but we had our eyes on right or spite arrangements. We are open to discussing those terms."

Xiuyang scoffed. "I do not expect any mutual agreements regarding the Trials to be upheld, after what Taleja pulled," she replied bitterly. "I can't guarantee that I'll be able to attend a future concert in Longwan, but my sister Maria is a VIP of the company and notoriously difficult to please. She's a real pain in the ass in the board room. I can get you a page from her personal chef's notebook, and instructions on how to prepare her favorite... tea." Xiuyang trailed off as she noticed a slightly grumpy expression starting to form on Maura's face.

"If this is about the negotiations for your team's cherune box, there was no one open to reason in your absence. Taleja stood there, waiting patiently to discuss terms, and your team mates refused to meet with her, so she had to assertively earn their attention," Maura countered. "We have also upheld every bargain thus far, and so we don't appreciate a snub when we are meeting in good faith. We were willing to take a friend at her word: information for you now, in exchange for a future promise. We are disappointed to have been met with such hostility."

Xiuyang grit her teeth. She did consider Maura to be a reasonable person, so how could she defend Taleja's actions? A cold calmness suddenly washed over her. She knew she shouldn't speak in this emotional state, but oh, was she going to. "Please be at ease, Maura. I certainly wasn't trying to say that Taleja going rogue was your idea. I'm not implying that. I have nothing but sympathy for you. After all, I have my own 'Taleja' to contend with—one with a hot temper at the best of times," she began, somewhat coolly. "Indeed, it's a shame that I was too busy having a near-death experience at the hands of Juulet to convince Taleja that holding Balthazar Square at ransom to make progress in a children's game might be a little unreasonable. Everyone in Fait Accompli agrees that that was quite an inconvenience." She glared daggers at her rival, in spite of her attempts to remain calm.

"You know, I must confess, maybe I am just a little bit less reasonable after all the hell I went through. Perhaps I should take my leave and let you make a deal with Ciro instead! Maybe he has something of actual value to offer, unlike Xiuyang the nobody!" A long pause. She took a drink from her gourd, in lieu of an apology for her outburst, to indicate that she was finished. A poor steward of her emotions, as always.

Maura also paused, but remained undeterred. She knew Xiuyang could be emotional, and was used to the occasional barb. Still, this was probably the most upset Maura had ever seen her before. Not even their own experience in ReTan shook her this badly. Was there more that she wasn't telling her? "To say that you do not expect any mutual agreements regarding the Trials to be upheld is a direct attack on our reputation as a businesswoman, especially in light of the personally advantageous position we find ourselves in, where withholding information is in our best interest," she patiently explained. "We were going to offer you this in advance, for a simple agreement, for example: both teams agree not to spite each other in the upcoming 'Right or Spite' as a special 'mates-rates' exchange, in a game for someone whom, we thought and considered a friend." Maura was unhappy with Xiuyang's attempt to back pedal, and felt the attempt was not an appropriate apology. "Obviously, we were concerned for you, and are glad to see you safely returned," she offered, her tone disarming.

A twinge of guilt was visible on Xiuyang's face at that, and it still felt incredibly uncanny to Maura to see Xiuyang's uncovered face, as if it were no strange thing, after almost two years of mystery. Maura sighed in a defeated blend of concern and frustration. "We could be excused if we happened to conveniently forget all the relevant details—but we wrote it down, at least. We will be the better person; you may have this." She handed the details to Xiuyang. 'Second Round: Purple in one of the 2v2s, Blue in the second 2v2, and Yellow in the 1v1.'

At Maura's gesture of goodwill, Xiuyang's jaw trembled, until she broke down crying. "I'm... sorry, Maura. I'm sorry..." she sobbed. After calming down a bit, she continued. "I... got emotional, because... this will probably be our last deal," she choked, wiping her tears. "I don't really have any authority in the company anymore. Maria is taking my place—you'll be dealing with her from now on," she confessed, defeated. There was no point in hiding it from Maura anymore. If she hadn't heard rumors already, she'd hear the news in a couple of weeks. "I just... I need to do well in the Trials, Maura. After everything that's happened, if I don't prove that I can protect myself, my father might pull my funding and demand I return home and marry some snooty asshole in some far-away, backwards country, like my sister Desi in Virang."

Tears threatened to come again, but she choked them back. "This could be the last time we can speak together like this, and I ruined it by lashing out at you. I don't hate you Maura, I just... I'm jealous. You're not like me. You always show your good side to people, all smiles, kind to people who don't deserve it." She sniffed. How quickly she'd give up the movement of her legs to have a beautiful smile again. "I've had to skulk around in the shadows, hiding my hideous face, hiding my kindness from any who'd exploit it. It's how my family taught me to be. Your 'better person' methods shouldn't work in this ruthless, cutthroat world, but you've always been one step ahead. I've always hated that. You make me look like a fucking joke." A hint of the anger returned, but was quickly stifled. "I envy you, but I've always enjoyed our verbal sparring sessions—I'll miss them." She gave into the tears once more.

Maura sighed as Xiuyang began to break down before her, frowning for a moment before pulling the girl into a hug even given the awkwardness of the position as she encouraged the girl to kneel down in front of her so she could reach, stroking her hands through her hair. “Sheesh, don’t cry; everyone would think we are some kind of monster,” she teased playfully to the other girl, “and it is getting my dress all wet now too.” She made no inclination of pushing her away, just continuing to soothe the girl. “Besides, your father is going to stop paying the tuition, because if you get in the top 20, your tuition gets paid for by Ersand’Enise for the year.”

She made it sound so simple: just ignore her father's petulant attempts to control her, and keep going to school. "You don't get it, Maura!" Xiuyang replied, clutching at the folds of the girl's dress as she cried. "It's not about the money—I finally..! I've only just found a path forward, to live the life I want, and after everything I went through, I might still..!" She sobbed. "I couldn't do anything! That bitch Juulet made me look useless! I need to show them all that I can hack it! My father, Ciro, Tyrel—I need them all to acknowledge me! I need my team to make at least top ten—no, top five!" Her voice was desperate, cracking under the weight of high expectations.

...

There was only so much that encouraging words, or a physical act of comfort could do. With so much at stake in her mind, the only true cure for a crisis of faith in oneself was to purely and simply do it—and that required that she eventually stop crying, calm herself, and take her leave of Maura to go train. Even armed with the information from Maura, Kaureerah, Roslyn and Desmond, she wasn't confident staking it all on proving to the judges and the crowd that her opponents were cheating. There was still a chance that they weren't, and she couldn't afford to be blindsided by that. Her team composition would have to accommodate the possibility that they needed a brute-force victory. With that in mind, she stacked the team's power in the 2v2s, leaving Ciro with the unenviable task of preparing himself for the 1v1, in the hopes that there wouldn't be a 1v1.

Blessedly, this plan paid off in more ways than one. Armed with the Blue Ice from Cal, she calmed her mind and used her beanie of Weggosi relaxation to see through the illusions of Shadow Wizard Money Gang, who turned out to be eeaiko! After ironing out some kinks in their coordination, she and Tyrel were able to not only take the first round, but permanently mark their atomic mage's body to prevent him from meddling in the second round. Shadow Wizard Money Gang were persistent, however, and illegally had him participate in the second round anyway. After a prolonged stalemate, Ingrid and Trypano were able to reveal the cheaters, who were then brutalized by the furious crowd. With her plan a resounding success, Ciro wouldn't have to suffer a humiliating defeat or horrible death in the solo round. Xiuyang couldn't stop herself from embracing her crush, relieved that she hadn't failed him after all the trust he'd put in her.

The Fateful Quarterfinals

This event speaks for itself. Read about it here!

Semifinals: A Perfect Gentleman

Moments before the match, Ciro offered his hand to Xiuyang. Taking it, she looked up at him. She must have given off the vibe that she wanted to say something, too, because Ciro responded with his reassuring smile. "Well, I know that look..." he said with teasing expectance.

"Um, well. I just wanted to say... no matter what happens now, I think we make a pretty good team." She averted her eyes, blushing just slightly.

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "That we do."

Xiuyang raised her scarf up, hiding a big smile as she walked into the arena. "Ready to save my ass again?" she exhaled, upon laying eyes on her opponents. Fuck.

"You're going down, scarface!" Raffie cheered, sticking her tongue out at the Revidian pair. How the boos rained down when the Revidian pair entered. There were not too many people allowed to spectate, but those who were did their best to make the place feel hostile towards their enemies.

Zarina then regarded the opposition. "No point asking for a courtesy hug beforehand, huh?" she smirked.

Xiuyang turned to Zarina, unsure what to make of the comment yet. "Sorry, I'm fresh out," she replied, cheeky but friendly.

Ciro shrugged. "I assume that's your way of asking if we'd let you have a grace period. In that case, I agree." He smiled and his body language clearly indicated that he had not raised any defenses, content to let his opponents strengthen. He might do the same himself.

"Huh?" Zarina raised a brow. "Nah, just making a joke. No graces today."

"Very well," he said with a smile.

...

Zarina and Miret were fierce opponents, and Ciro held his own better than Xiuyang expected. Had she vastly underestimated his capabilities? Among the four of them, Xiuyang was the weak link, and everyone quickly put that together. It didn't matter than she was showing vastly superior strength compared to last year's Trials—her opponents were simply stronger than the best that she could muster. She tried to conceal herself with illusions so she could support Ciro, but it was not enough. After only a few rounds of attacks, she was sent hurtling out of the ring by Zarina. She could have killed her. If this were a real battle, she'd be dead, and she knew it.

Xiuyang was eliminated. Ciro's face fell. "Well, I guess that's that, then." He shot Xiuyang a sad look. "I am so sorry I couldn't help you do this, my love."

Zarina shrugged. "Sorry, habibi."

Ciro adjusted the red rose in his lapel. He took it out and took a sniff. "Well, I'd appreciate if you'd let me shake your hands and walk out. I'd like to remember uh..." He scratched at the back of his head. "What not to do next time."

Zarina raised a brow. "Shake hands? Sure, after the match is over. You can walk out, though."

He held his hand out and watched it refused. He shook his head. "Nevermind." He walked out, and the crowd roared. The Virangish had won in Virang; the Revidians had been defeated.

Xiuyang was sent hurtling into a bench, and did not land gracefully. Her world spun around, and agonizing pain assaulted her back and stomach. Virangish spectators jeered, tossing food at her as she struggled to stand and catch her breath. At least, she wasn't dead. Ciro came and embraced her as the boos rained down upon them. "Remember, the opinions of these... people don't define who you are," he murmured into her ear. "But they are not like us: they care only for their bread and circuses. I will never sink to their level, I promise. I pray you do the same."

"Oi!" yelled Zarina, arms flailing and all those gestures for attention. "A little grace for the opponents. Ya Hmar! They played honourably." Murmurs began to ripple through the crowd. That she was with one of those filthy knife-ears could be overlooked, in theory. It was simply their team composition and Zarina had been given no choice in that, most likely. Now she was calling Revidians honourable!? The whispers and gossip got Zarina to enter the defensive with her arms crossed. "Thank you for coming to see us and the cheers." she bowed her head before marching to the benches and join her team.

Xiuyang bit her lip. It was hard not to be disappointed, when she had taken the finals almost for granted, until Raffaella had unleashed... that. It was surreal. It felt unfair. It felt how the Perrench had probably felt after her "victory." In reality, she knew she hadn't deserved to make it to semifinals, to begin with.

"Let's go," she sighed, sounding only slightly morose. A surprising underreaction, given how fired up she was to defeat Penny. Perhaps the difference in power had taken the wind out of her sails. "I'm so exhausted, Ciro... from everything. I just want a bath, a nice dinner, and about... three days and nights of uninterrupted sleep." She offered him a wry smile. He smiled and walked beside her, holding his hand out playfully. "Yup, it can all go burn for now." He shook his head. "The rest sounds lovely, though, and better enjoyed... dare I say it—with company?"

Xiuyang gave him the sly eyes—the look she always had when she was hatching some plan to amuse herself. She played at ignoring his hand, plucking a piece of lettuce out of his hair instead. Then, she took him by the arm. "My father is impressed by you, you know?" she hinted. "That's not easy to do. It's almost as hard as impressing me," she japed.

"Well, I am pretty impressive," he remarked. Then he scratched at the back of his head. "Just uh... scrub today from the books, huh?" He offered a self-effacing smile and, together, they walked away. But Xiuyang would not forget—how Ciro, ever the image of a perfect gentleman, had put himself in the crowd's line of fire to lift her up, physically and emotionally. "Nope. Don't think I can, so you'll just have to treat me," she teased, smiling.

And that, he did.

A Pizza and Beer Party (Fait Accompli Exclusive!)

Following the conclusion of Mano e Mano, Xiuyang called a final team meeting. It was, at least, officially a team meeting, but there was also a subtle but distinct "consolation pizza and beer party" vibe to it. She certainly wasn't going to admit to it, and nobody was likely to point it out. She had the plausible deniability of being a perpetually drunk Revidian. This was Xiuyang's vibe, and it was fun for a while, but eventually, the others looked to her for some kind of purpose for the meeting. She shrugged. She was never any good at starting any kind of "official" anything.

"We are gathered here todayy..." she drawled comically, "...to talk strategy. The old greybeards aren't done using us for their own amusement yet." She chugged another pint's worth of beer from her gourd. "I'll get straight to the point. We're in the spotlight of a massive controversy. People hate us. 'Specially me." She grimaced, not from guilt but from distaste.

"We're in seventh place, but we'll probably get spited into the ground if we don't pick up some good PR. That's why I passed on fighting for third place. We could maybe take down Maura's team if we're extremely lucky and on our absolute A game, but let's be honest... we're not. We're all exhausted, and those points aren't worth the hassle compared to what we're gonna get by playing the good sports, looking like the victims of someone else's grand design—which we probably are, but everyone needs to know it." She smirked. "We need the Zenos of Ersand'Enise to take the fall for us on that Fiske n' Chips match. I'm sure their infighting has something to do with this. It's the least they can do for us. Our efforts are better spent elsewhere."

She chugged again. "I've got more unfinished business with Penny than I thought. I knew she didn't like me, but apparently she hates my guts badly enough to spit death threats with just a little bit of provocation. So, there's nothing for it. I'll just have to give her the apology she wants. The Perrench outnumber us. She's holding all the cards. I need her to agree to a ceasefire, or we'll lose our place in the top ten." She swirled her gourd around, acting like she didn't give a care—but in truth, this clever ruse was just an excuse. Penny was hurting, and despite her best efforts not to care... she did. "Anyone else got any bright ideas to deal with this problem? If not, I'll settle for letting you handle right or spite, while I deal with the jealous girlfriend issue. It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it," she japed, with the vibe of a mob boss. "If I don't come back, you know who killed me," she added, deadpan.

"From what ah understand th' main top ten get more leverage from spitin' than rightin'. Ah think as long as no team in the top has a specific reason t' spite us then we might a chance of movin' up on the back of other team's spite-in' one of the leadin' teams." Trypano was leaned up against a wall, arms crossed and hat casting a long shadow in the flickering light of the wall lantern.

"Since votin' uniformly gives us a boost ah think votin' spite on Vyshta's Most Favored will knock 'em down a peg, 'specially since we probably ain't gonna be the only ones. After all, bein' number one just put's a big target on their backs." She gave a long sigh, not as a statement or anything of that sort but rather she was simply weary of this distraction. She was done with these trials as soon as they even began, the amount of time these events had deducted from her actual work was grinding her nerves.

"As for curryin' favor with the teams eleven t' twenty or so I'm not the one t' ask. I'll do what ah can but hardly anyone knows me, least in a positive context that is."

"I'll go to the Eskandish, I have a reputation with them and should be able to persuade them not to vote against us." Ingrid wasn't completely confident in that but she would try at the very least. "Same with Sven. I can see if he is willing to at least not spite us and at best have some sympathy. Other than that I can hit up some old friends to try and get higher. I don't know if it will convince them but I can try."

"Good luck with Penny, she is a decent person, I swear." Ingrid added. She wasn't going to try to convince someone of her character when at times, Penny acts like a bad person to even her.

Acceptance (Forum Only Content!)

Given the events of the day, it was nigh impossible for anyone to get a moment with Penny alone, Xiuyang least of all. She decided to get her attention the only way she could think to try, which was to write a letter.

Penny,

I want you to know, first and foremost, that I bear you no ill will. I want you and Jamboi to be happy together. I would never want you to suffer as you did. Even if you don't remember a thing, I want to apologize. I don't know where the aberration came from, but I can't shake this sinking feeling that, if I'd been stronger, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

That isn't the main reason I'm writing to you, though. Penny, I don't know if anyone told you about the things you said to me in between being temporally anchored and the start of our fight. What I heard broke my heart, but it also opened my eyes. I've hurt you, far more than I ever thought or intended. In the moment, I was angry, but in hindsight, I feel ashamed. If there is anyone in this school who knows what it's like to hide bitterness behind a mask, it's me. I should have seen the pain you were in.

Please, find me at Dami's Cross, and tell me everything. Just let me have it, and get it all off your chest. I promise I won't get angry or defensive. I want both of us to leave this bitterness behind and focus on making our loved ones happy.

Sincerely, Xiuyang

Despite the presence of dozens of other students all using it as a rendezvous point, there was no missing Penny when she showed up at the Dami's Cross fountain. By her very nature, she was distinctive. She did not, however, seem to notice Xiuyang right away. Instead, she sat on one of the benches, leaning her crutches against the end of it and taking a moment to get her bearings. In the meantime, a trio of cleaners were hard at work scrubbing the paint off of the statue in the middle. Should Xiuyang wish to back out, this would perhaps be her last opportunity to do so.

Despite her promise not to get angry or defensive, no matter what Penny might say to her, Xiuyang still did not quite feel safe meeting with Penny alone. It was no coincidence that she'd chosen such a public place. The immature part of her had even hoped that Penny might just not show up. Now that she had, though, her heart began to race. As soon as she saw her, she remembered the sight of her, aberration mad, charging after her with murderous intent. She remembered how easily the death threat had escaped her mouth, and how easily she could have squished her like a bug if Ingrid wasn't there to defend her.

This, however, would be her last chance with Penny, perhaps her only chance. Anxiety written all over her face, she revealed herself. She'd been sitting on the edge of the fountain, alone. She rose to her feet slowly, and cautiously approached Penny. No theatrics, no clever jokes. She simply walked up to her. "Thanks for coming," she said softly, trying to smile. "...May I sit?" she attempted, gesturing to the other end of the bench.

Penny arched an eyebrow. "Nobody's stopping you." She looked the other girl over. At some point, Xiuyang had stopped wearing her mask. That was... not a pretty sight and, for some reason, it melted a bit of her resolve. She was not a pretty sight either, according to some. Penny said no more for the time being, however. She merely let the other speak. On the one hand, she was nearly certain that the school or some nefarious third party had been behind the incident that she did not fully remember. On the other, a small part of her still believed that it might've been Xiuyang's allies and they'd simply messed up. This was likely what it appeared to be: a simple apology for something that, to be frank, Penny owed an apology for as well. There was always a chance, though - just a slight one - that it was something much darker.

"...Thanks," came the simple reply. Anxious, she sat on the other edge of the bench, looking like an awkward teenager preparing to be scolded—which, truthfully, was exactly what she was. For Pentad's sake, Penny, please say something, she thought desperately as the short moment of silence seemed in her mind to last an eternity.

Letting a moment pass without trying to break the ice was not a strong suit of hers. So, in the end, she caved, and spoke first. "I hope you're here because you got my letter, otherwise, this is going to be really awkward..." she tried a nervous laugh, scratching her cheek. "I'll just start with the bottom line, huh? I've been... a conceited, conniving little coward. Saying that I was trying to steal your boyfriend is giving me too much credit. For a Yanii, dating a Yasoi is a big commitment, and I lacked the conviction to make a move. I used to think, 'no one would ever love a girl like me.' His rejection would have broken me. So I just... silently hoped that he would make the first move," she confessed.

"He's not that kind of guy, though. He wants a girl who will say yes, not one who will just... not say no. He's a good man. He called me beautiful because I lacked confidence, not because he liked me like that. ...Still, I should have told him to stop. I know what it feels like, now, to love someone so much that just the thought of him flirting with other girls, even if it's strictly business pleasantries, makes me feel terribly jealous. If I'd known what that was like—that I was hurting you—well, I'd like to think I would have done better... I don't know. Hearing him call me beautiful, even if it was a joke, felt so nice. No one ever said so before." She gripped the folds of her robes.

But you're not, Penny thought, and neither am I. The thought was invasive. It was not what she was supposed to think. It was not what she was meant to think. She shook her head without meaning to. "That's... a lot." Penny glanced about uncomfortably, not quite knowing how to respond to such an admission. "Dami," she laughed nervously, "I feel like such a bitch if I don't respond in kind, you know?" For a moment, she simply regarded her counterpart. She didn't know what to do with her hands.

"But thank you, and.. really." She breathed. Did she really hate Xiuyang? They'd been friendly to each other on a surface level. Penny had spent her entire life until Ersand'Enise being friendly to people who she hated and who'd hated her. Really, it had been fear: a fear of losing Ashon and everything that he represented. "I have..." she admitted, trailing off for a moment, "my own long sad story to tell, but now's not the time for it. I have my own deep-seated issues with self-worth." She knitted and unknitted her fingers. They still felt strange: that gap in her left hand that had always been there and now wasn't. She'd hated it too, but she'd accepted it, even - scandalously - used it to hold a pen or utensils with when nobody was looking. Why should a different body automatically be deemed hideous and malformed? Who got to decide that? Was it social or biological?

"Oh, I could say something trite about how we're not so different, but I think that you and I both know that now." She shook her head and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, offering a faint smile. "I don't think we'll ever be besties - I bleed green and gold - but we're not enemies and..." She shrugged. "This meant a lot. I'm not gonna cry. I don't know why. Maybe I have so many regrets piled up that I'm just numb to it at this point. Maybe life is surreal right now." She let out a snort and leaned forward, posting her weight on her hands. There was a restlessness about Penny these days. Maybe some of the yasoi had bled into her being. "I just..." It was a simple thing, really, but nobody ever apologized to her. "Apology accepted and... I should've said something before. I should've seen it and recognized where my own reaction was coming from." She hesitated. I'm... glad you're happy now." Her smile felt fake even though it wasn't. I'm sorry. She was going to say it but, then, she didn't. On some level perhaps, to do so would've been an admission of weakness. For a royal of Perrence to do that... she did not recognize it as such but, maybe, it was just a mental hurdle too far for her.

"Life is pretty fucking surreal right now," Xiuyang agreed, letting out a genuine chuckle, and palpable relief. "I'm not entitled to your regrets, Penny—but I hope you won't let them hold you back. I've been so scared of... everything lately, I almost forgot how to be happy—but I'm done crying, sick of it even. I'm not going to waste another moment regretting anything that led me to this place in time."

She stood up. "I meant what I said, when I said it—that there's nothing tying me to Revidia but a birth certificate—but... now I've gone and fallen head over heels for a Revidian, haven't I? C'est la vie, non?" she shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I still don't want war. If I knew the first thing about what happened, or who was behind it, I'd tell you. I hope you believe that."

Penny sniffed, and toed at a pebble with her single foot. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "I do, suunei." She took a breath and flashed a smiled. "I do." Quicker than one might've expected, she slid over and reached out in embrace. "Thanks for being a human. Let's hug it out, hmm?"

Caught off guard, Xiuyang paused, but then she sat right back down on the bench and embraced Penny. "I'm here for you both, if you need me," she whispered. "I know how they look down on us. How hard it can be." She gently squeezed. She wanted, perhaps, to say more—to get it all off her chest—but this moment was for Penny, not her. She'd said enough for today.

Closure?

In the Proving Grounds, Juulet was hosting an event: allegedly, anyone could punch her in the face, for the low cost of giving their points to Vyshta's More Favoured. Predictably, Xiuyang stepped up to the proverbial plate. Her expression had certainly changed following her time in Yarsoc. She was showing her face now, bearing her scars almost with a kind of pride. She had no fear in her eyes, nor hatred, nor the mercantile glint of the expectation of bargaining. There was nothing but a cold emptiness. Was it depression? Or acceptance?

The bitch herself sat cross legged in the centre of the arena, playing with some of the sand with an idle hand to pass the time. But then came the Yanii she had banished a couple of days ago. She did not look surprised and instead greeted Xiuyang with a smug grin. "Looks like the spiritual awakening in our lands made a new you. Good for you."

"...Yeah," she replied blithely. "Sure. Let's call it a holy pilgrimage. One might even say I found some form of acceptance with the Yasoi," she japed, thinking of Tyrel, and how surprised she'd been that she came for her. She stood a fair distance from Juulet, arms crossed. "I had to see it for myself to believe it. So. Whose idea was this?"

Juulet pushed herself off her sitting position, seized one of her crutches and stood before the maskless Revidian. "Mine. I'm not as bullheaded as I seem." the crutch was placed before her, allowing for the taller Yasoi to leaned forward over it. "Interested?"

There was a pause as Xiuyang pondered the absurd offer. "Depends. Why did you choose Yarsoc? Did you think sending me to that shithole would make me give up on your people? Make me show my true, dirty Yanii colors? Or did you just think it would be funny, to write this as my epitaph: Here lies Xiuyang Solari, tree-rider extraordinaire. She died as she lived." She delivered the punchline with a tone as flat and dead as roadkill.

Juulet didn't take long to answer. An anti-climactic shrug was a proper indicator of what was to come. "I wanted to fuck you over, I'm pretty sure. Tossing you in a deathtrap shithole felt fitting at the time." She drummed her fingers over the single support she was leaned on. "I didn't even remember where exactly I sent you. Just a spur of the moment thing. But no, I don't think enough about some tree-rider Yanii to imagine writing on some tombstone." Her expression was dull as much as her tone was flat and disinterested to match Xiuyang's energy.

"I'm kind of surprised. I didn't expect you to come back." She chuckled after the mirthful remark. "I suppose it is for the better you did, Ashy was growing antsy. And now, here you are no longer with that ugly mask. No more surprise, sure, but now you can finally breathe." She then raised her index finger and tapped her cheek. "Now, stop wasting my time for answers you'll never be satisfied with and hit me. I've got points to grind."

I'll never feel like I can breathe more than halfway in. Not until the day you die, Xiuyang thought bitterly. On the outside, however, she smiled. "I'm not here to hit you, though. I'm only here to make sure that arbitrary 'score' of yours is even between us, since I know you won't stop coming for me until it is. If we're even, then I have no business with you."

With that, Xiuyang turned to walk away. Her eyes didn't linger on that monster for even a second more. Juulet wouldn't show the sad, confused expression of a broken child who was unaccustomed to kindness or forgiveness. She would show only a smug grin, or high-and-mighty scorn. No, a single act of puerile violence would not satisfy Xiuyang. She would handle this the Solari way. She would face Juulet with a smile, starting today, until the very instant she found herself with a favorable hand. Then, she would make Juulet suffer.

Later, upon seeing the final standings, Xiuyang would find out that her singular decision not to punch Juulet would cost Vyshta's More Favoured first place, bumping them down to third. She had won the moral victory, even if it felt a bit hollow.

Two Girls and a Scheme

Stupid Games, Fabulous Prizes, Hidden Plot (A Summary With New Insights)

The artifacts on offer as Trials rewards had been on display in the auction hall for some time, and all of the winners seemed to have at least a vague idea of what they wanted. It was never going to be a simple matter of choosing those items, however; it was a game in which the higher-placed teams had an advantage, items could be stolen, and the top 3 teams could get 3 rewards, while everyone else was stuck with two. Problem one: there were three items that Xiuyang absolutely had to have, and anything that didn't get chosen was going to be auctioned off. Problem two: Marceline had just seized one of the prizes Xiuyang had her eye on—an anti-magic device.

When Fait Accompli's turn came, though, Xiuyang heaved a sigh of relief, and headed straight for the Paired Mirrors of Swift Exchange, ignoring every other prize. This one took priority. Once she had it, she sat back down next to Ciro, offering him one of the mirrors with a big smile that could rival Raffaella's. "You've always been there when I needed you. Now I can return the favor." He smiled in return. "Have I told you that you're the best enough times, or would you like to hear it again?"

"Once in a while certainly doesn't hurt." She looked away to hide her blush, grinning. "Just don't wear it out." She couldn't be happier with her choice. She didn't fully understand Ciro's capabilities, and wasn't sure if the gift would be useful. Her relief was palpable, but she was also a little embarrassed—at least, she strived to seem that way. Now no one can steal this from us without looking like a villain. Only, what to do about Marci...

She considered. No, I'll let her have this. I shouldn't rush things. The next time we meet, I'll be an even match for Juulet myself—and I won't be alone. Ciro just got an anti-magic item, too. Having made her decision, she laid hands upon the Sanguine Bayonet of Endless Bloodhunger—a prize that had appeared in last year's Trials, but went unclaimed, perhaps due to its macabre nature. Indeed, there were already whispers in the room. Of course, there would be confusion about a pacifist taking up a weapon such as this. As she walked back to Ciro's side, she ignored everyone's stares. I've been too soft. These people have forgotten what it means to fuck with a Solari. Father was right—I should remind them that we are dangerous to the wrong sort.

At Xiuyang's recommendation, Ciro acquired a mask with a power that would be useful in negotiations and other social situations—an item that was useful to both of them. She waited for someone to steal her new lance. War was around the corner, and surely someone would take the opportunity to show the room that they were oh so much scarier than a pair of mere Revidian merchants. Come on, take it from me. Then I can take what I'm really after with no chance of it being stolen from me. She feigned defensiveness whenever anyone approached her team, but to her chagrin, it was always Trypano's item they were after.

In the end, Xiuyang was stuck with the lance. Well, fuck. I decided I'd be okay with this outcome, but really... those guns are perfect for combating an Avatar of Vyshta. I'm surprised Marci didn't take them. She considered her options for a moment. During the last auction, items started off expensive and the prices only got driven up from there. She had money saved from back then, but her income was the lowest it had ever been, now. Certainly, she'd had no allies to pool money with last time, and now she had Ciro, but still. She owed him enough—she shouldn't rely on him for every little thing.

Winners were being allowed to swap any prizes they were unhappy with with those still left in the pool. She could trade the lance for the guns, but what kind of message would that send? That she was indecisive after all? No, she had to keep the lance now. She just needed an item to trade. How could she make this work? There was a way, she decided as she approached the prize pool. "Anyone else trying to get another prize out of this?" She asked, a mercantile glint in her eyes. "I've got enough money here to buy at least two items during the auction, but I only want one, and I absolutely must have it. I'll buy any one item off of you with this. Any item—I'm not picky."

Immediately, a woman named Marlijn Vaanse took her up on the offer. It was a bad deal for Xiuyang, who was holding a small fortune of 1,300 magus—but she wasn't going to take even the slightest chance that someone with more money than her had their eyes on Ahn-Dami's Second Chancers. As soon as the deal was made, Xiuyang exchanged the item she'd bought off Marlijn for those guns, and wasted no time in attaching them to her hip and concealing them beneath her robe. "A pleasure doing business."

Easy Come, Easy Go (A Fleshed-Out Auction Sequence)

The auction was next, and Xiuyang was out of cash. She was satisfied with her haul, though, and more than content to simply sit next to Ciro and watch the show. The first interesting items to come up were some paintings by the artist Tku. One called "The Rise" depicted Juulet in the role of a divine being, facing off against a four-armed demon. How droll, Xiuyang thought, until Ciro started bidding for it against Juulet herself. Confused at first, Xiuyang eventually caught on to what he was doing: driving up the price. She fought back the urge to snicker and failed as Juulet happily paid triple her original bid.

The next painting, called "The Fall" depicted the more honest scene that Xiuyang remembered from the finals of Mano e Mano: a scared and helpless child in the grasp of an all-consuming darkness, her divinity stripped away. Ciro leaned in to Xiuyang, whispering: "Would you like it?" The question caught her off guard. Where, just where in all of Sipenta could a man find this much brazen confidence? If Juulet didn't destroy this painting herself, whoever bought it would surely be her next target, along with the artist himself. "Nah. It's burned into my mind's eye forever," she replied in truth. When the demon had appeared, she watched him taunt Juulet, even as others ran and hid behind the stone walls of the arena, as if they could offer safety from such an overwhelmingly powerful being. She had been prepared to die by the same greataxe that would have slain her greatest adversary. Just how cold had her heart grown to the prospect of dying, after everything she'd witnessed in the past months? Death, and even what she knew of the hells were a mercy compared to that endless nothing she had experienced firsthand.

Meanwhile, everyone was bidding on the painting, including Trypano, Penny, Desmond, and... Marceline. She bid a whopping 500 magus on it, remarking that she loved the "realism." "What a wonderful piece! Should I put it on public display?" She said as she shook Tku's hand. Dami fuck, Marci. Holy shit. Xiuyang couldn't help but admire and envy the girl's courage. As the auction went on, Marci also bid 100 magus on the 25-hour self-copy. By the gods, I think she has the same plan I was considering before. She's going to kill Juulet, she realized. Xiuyang didn't know much about Marci, other than that any sensible woman would be furious at Juulet for attacking their boyfriend. Should I stop her? She bit her lip for a fraction of a second, then quickly hid behind a poker face, standing ready to prompt Ciro to back her if she had competition. However, she had none.

Now Juulet was bidding on an item: the Girdle of Dominance, which would only make her even more of a menace. "Do we allow this?" she whispered to Ciro urgently. "We let others spend and we watch," he replied simply. It was only then that she reflected: Ciro had driven up the price of a lot of items, but not actually bought anything himself. It seemed he had some grander scheme in mind. She shrugged off her reservations, deciding to trust in his judgment. He hadn't let her down before. In the end, it didn't matter, as Juulet and Tyrel pooled their money, with the latter actually getting the belt, and Juulet seemed... satisfied? When did those two suddenly grow close? This was worrying.

At last, though, Ciro decided to buy something, and when he did, it was an absolute steal, snagging a Great Sandbar Thresher for a measly 200 magus. She certainly didn't envy whoever found themselves on the wrong side of Ciro while riding that beast. Next was a rare variant of Coldfire Wyvern: the Blackfire, starting at a mere 4 magus. If Xiuyang had only known the Trials prizes would start so cheap, she would have held on to her money. She looked on with pity for the silky black beast with fierce violet eyes, regretful that she had no money—until Ciro slapped down 250 for it. "Was I that obvious?" she asked, more than a little embarrassed. No one competed to outbid him, either. It seemed everyone knew what was happening here. "I know how to read people, and we didn't pay too much," he replied. Xiuyang smiled sheepishly. You could have left that last part out, she thought, bemused. Oh. I totally just let him cater to my whims, didn't I? Just like other girls... Sorry, my dear. Please don't be cross with me. She knitted her fingers anxiously, a little ashamed of herself.

What followed was an absolute bloodbath over a piece of Sirrahi technology: a pair of two-way radios. Xiuyang had to pull her scarf up to hide her stupid grin. To think I got a much better item uncontested during prize selection. Thanks for respecting us lovebirds, she thought deviously, even though it did warm her heart slightly. It was real love, after all, wasn't it? "I wish we had popcorn," Ciro remarked as he leaned in, hands in his pockets. "This is the best. I'm so glad I came along," she replied with a chuckle. "Always fireworks here. We've spent barely more than we've made and they haven't even made it to the shoppe yet." He ruffled her hair fondly. It was true: the others had spent basically all of their money, and Ciro's Volta Emporium was about to make a lot more. I almost don't feel stupid for overpaying for those guns anymore, she mused as the radios sold for a whopping 850 magus.

Scavenging The Emporium, Feeding the Poor (New Forum Content!)

Later that day, word reached Xiuyang that a disaster had taken place at L'emporio di Volta. A certain dragon tamer astride a Blue Water Behemoth had, according to some sources, inadvertently trashed the place while trying to save some customers from some runaway Rettandic goods. Ciro's version of the story understandably made it sound a bit less noble. "I'll help clean this up. Don't worry about it—there are some things I wanted to buy, too."

Having heard through Tyrel of the miraculous healing powers of the cheese Pluurii had acquired during prize selection, Xiuyang thought she'd have a go at trying to find one for herself. She had many things to be thankful for, despite all of the trials she'd been put through lately—but if she could get rid of her scars as well, she'd never ask the gods for anything again. Checking around for any eyes on her, she saw none. It seemed as if the employees knew of her and Ciro's relationship, and trusted her. Very good. She put on her beanie and began to search the contents of the crates without opening them. Sorry, love, but this is for both of us.

No matter how far and wide she searched, however, she could not find any crates with the mana-infused cheese. She did find a few other curiosities, though, and opted to keep the three crates they happened to be in. She could afford another ten crates with her pocket money, and purchased those as well. "Pack these up, please. I wish to donate them," she said to the nearest worker. "Where to, signora?" "The Seagate." "...The Seagate, madam?" he asked wearily. "Well, go around from the Parade Gate, if it offends your sensibilities," she fired back irritably. "Not at all, madam Solari."

As the carriage moved along, Xiuyang wondered if she should even show up in person for this. Was there any merit to it? "Tree-riders" like her were always viewed with suspicion. However, she mustered every ounce of her courage and went along for the ride, Staff of the Burning Monkey King in hand. As the yasoi refugees came into view, they all stared at her. Curious eyes failed to recognize either the woman or the staff in her hand, and their reactions to her generosity were mixed. Several children thanked her as they had clearly been taught, while their parents said nothing, positive or negative. Some pointed at her scarred face and said things she couldn't understand while the adults shushed them. A few nodded in gratitude and thanks. Overall, it was a very mixed bag. It neither met Xiuyang's expectations of negativity, nor subverted them with heartwarming positivity. It just kind of happened—and perhaps that was right and fair.

An Uneasy Alliance (Twenty-Five)

It was early evening, and Marci had finally tracked down Xiuyang as she walked. "Hey," called Marceline, "I'm glad you're coming." She took a second to catch her breath as she pulled up alongside the Revidian. "Wouldn't be a party without you."

Xiuyang regarded Marci's sudden appearance with surprise, and perhaps a healthy dose of suspicion. Her team "should" have advanced instead of Fait Accompli, if the aberration fiasco hadn't happened, and the two hadn't spoken since then. "You're not wrong," she replied, polite but wary. It was to be expected, perhaps, given what had happened to her dorm, as she was now the subject of much controversy among the Perrench.

She was walking alongside Ciro, and an eagle-eyed Marci would no doubt have noticed the arcane illusions at work, concealing the scars on her arms and legs—and, coincidentally, a pair of flintlock pistols strapped to her thighs, underneath her dress. She wasn't leaving anything to chance, apparently.

"Listen, I know some really messed up stuff happened in that match," Marceline admitted, "But I'm glad it didn't scare you off. You're.... well... good people, Xiuyang, what little I know you." They walked in silence for a few moments longer and Marceline didn't comment on what her counterpart was hiding. "Fuck Juulet, by the way," she offered.

At that, Xiuyang stopped abruptly, letting go of Ciro's arm. "I need to handle this," her eyes seemed to say as she gave him a nod. "I'll catch up," she assured him. Ciro released her with a concerned look and an assurance that he would meet her at the party, but he would likely want to know more at some point. If he wasn't quite nosy, he was every curious about everything, and often totally inconsequential things.

She took Marceline along a slight detour, walking at an idle pace until she supposed that Ciro was, ostensibly, out of earshot. She put up what she could of a sonic bubble, which wasn't much, but as some might say, locks kept honest people honest. "You're doing it tonight, I take it?" she remarked rather straightforwardly. She looked at Marci with an impenetrable expression. "Don't worry, you don't have a rat. I simply had my suspicions. I have a rough idea of what you plan to do, if only because I'd considered it myself upon seeing those same prizes," she admitted. "But if death would leave you with any regrets, I suggest you keep your head down too. If I couldn't hide from her, I doubt anyone can."

The younger girl shrugged. "It has to be done, doesn't it?" She leaned against a wall as her potential partner continued. Her eyes flicked Xiuyang's way and she shrugged. "I figured someone would guess," the tethered allowed. "Long as it's nobody close to Juulet, then I think we're fine, and you're the polar..." "Opposite," Xiuyang finished as Marci trailed off, narrowing her eyes. "But Tyrel. Who'd have ever thought." She shook her head in frustration. "She's not as smart as I thought she was, to be reeled in so easily by a dash of superficial charm." She pushed off from the wall. "As if it undoes numerous murderous escapades." She clenched her jaw and looked away for a moment, arms wrapped around herself. "I'm praying you don't go soft on me, like Tyrel," she entreated - slash - warned. "I'm going to kill her. I don't like killing, but every moment she breathes, she's like... a great sword hanging over the heads of everyone she's harmed: you, me, Fiske, Dory." She shook her head. And how many others, huh? She's evil and she'll keep being evil."

"I'm not so blindly in favor of the Yasoi that you need to fear me protecting a murderous false Avatar for the optics of it." She looked over her shoulder as she said it. "...Aye, I've gone soft as freshly fallen snow—with all its treachery." She offered a sly smile and a wink. "I'll give Tyrel a hard time about that later, but if I've learned anything about the Yasoi, they're much like us. The smartest ones all act like fools."

She paused for a moment, her eyes meeting Marci's as she considered her resolve. It was clear that there was nothing she could say to make her back down and wait for what better time to strike might come. "I don't disagree, but I'm not ready to face her—and neither are you—but maybe you'll stand a chance if we put our preparations together," she pondered. She drew her hidden flintlock pistols, showing them off to Marci. "These are interesting guns. Should you find your spells failing you, for any reason—inadequate strength, attempting a spell beyond your ken, or... just ill fortune, perhaps?" she suggested rather dispassionately. "They re-absorb and store any wasted energy from magic. Quite a useful tool in ambitious hands."

She held them just out of reach of Marci's hands. "Of course, if I just give them to you, I'll be implicated as your accomplice if you fail—so I'll need the appearance of having sold these to you. Give me something as collateral, and we have a deal." She offered an apologetic smile. "No offense, but I've actually gained something to lose since the last time I fucked with Juulet. I can't take any chances." I really shouldn't get involved at all, she thought apprehensively. But she's right. While I wait for my 'perfect' revenge, more innocents will suffer. Her plan is decent. I shouldn't let my hatred rob her of this chance.

Marceline considered. She pressed her lips together. "I've my own plans, but those would be useful as a safety net..." Her eyes darted about for a moment as she reached for a small sack tucked into her belt. "One diamond exploit," she offered, holding out the valuable groove coin she'd plucked from it. "Or did you prefer something that was more obviously mine?"

"That might be a bit too bold. This will do," she assured her, exchanging the items. Since I know you'll want this back, she thought, but didn't say. "Since I planned to use them to defend myself at the Soiree if necessary, they're already loaded. They can only store energy for a limited time, though," she advised. Then, she looked at Marci seriously. "She expected me to die in Yarsoc, despite what she's told anyone else. No matter what she says, don't hesitate."

Marceline hesitated for a moment. Then, quite suddenly, she leaned in. "I know you've already gotten one of these from Penny today - she mentioned it to me - but come here." Marci reached in to embrace her. "You don't have to worry about me. I won't hesitate."

Xiuyang was entirely not ready for the hug. Deep down, she didn't feel that she deserved one. It felt cowardly, relying on Marceline and refusing to involve herself directly—but more than anything, she didn't want to die, not now that she was so close to a new chapter of her life, with everything she wanted and more. She could put the struggles and the failures behind her, if only she could wait a little longer. The hug was brief and awkward, with Xiuyang looking over her shoulder as she gave Marci a pat on the back. "This was a great talk that we never had. Was nice not seeing you," she japed, slipping away with a sheepish smile.

Marceline hadn't been sure if a hug was warranted, but she'd wanted to involve Xiuyang at least symbolically and craved some sense of her blessing. Truthfully speaking, she'd needed it as much for her own fraying nerves as anything else. In theory, the plan was perfect. In practice, it had so many redundancies built into it that there was no way it could end in outright disaster, and now she'd added another. "Until we meet!" Marci chirped. Then they parted ways.

A Party is Never Just a Party

Soiree Arrival

Xiuyang arrived, accompanied by Ciro—or perhaps it was he who arrived, accompanied by Xiuyang? Ever since the controversial quarterfinals match against Penny and Guy, Xiuyang had not been seen alone even once. She was, of course, never easy to find, even at the best of times, but after her dorm room was vandalized, she was even more elusive.

She was, as ever, a centerpiece of rumor. After returning from her disappearance, she no longer hid her scars; only the members of Fait Accompli knew how she got them, leaving everyone else to speculate. She wore the qipao given to her by the Twin Emperors of ReTan once again, like it was her favorite dress. Previously a noted pacifist, some discredited voices among the Perrench whispered suspicions that she had not only summoned an aberration, but had even used blood magic. No one "knew" where she was staying after emptying her dorm of whatever remained of her belongings, but it was pretty easy, many mused, to guess with whom she was staying. After grabbing a particular prize from the Trials that seemed to be a gift for Ciro, she spent her remaining time during prize selection and the following auction acquiring undeniably lethal weapons; others did the same, of course, but some considered it out of character for Xiuyang.

Then, of course, was the news about the Solari trading company. Finally, the long-standing rumor was confirmed: Salome (Xiuyang) Solari would be stepping down from her role, making Maria Solari, her elder sister and firstborn of the family, the new CFO. Many saw this an an improvement, as Maria was less of an idealist and more practical-minded. All was not well, however—a new and terrifying rumor was spreading: one of the company's flagships, a Torragonese man of war named the Forte Impresa, had been captured by pirates. Was it true? How would such a thing have possibly happened?

Xiuyang appeared remarkably unbothered by it all. Perhaps she'd had enough time to get over the loss of her lucrative position. Maybe it was all part of her future plans. Perhaps it was simply no longer "her problem." Whatever the case, she was all smiles as she looked around at her friends and bluntly ignored any stink-eye. "I'm growing quite fond of this," she remarked as she helped herself to some of the Ellermane Bleu. I'd say it brings back memories, but that wasn't that long ago, now was it? she mused.

Another Type of Acceptance

As Xiuyang mingled with others of the merchant class, catching them up on the news and engaging in some idle gossip, she suddenly caught a glimpse of Penelope, which meant Guy was around somewhere. An uneasy expression took over her face as she pet the puffhound as usual, glancing about for her master. She looked like she didn't want to be noticed.

Penelope accepted the pets and demanded more for a bit. Then she remembered her role. She pulled over the two pups to get their pets as well. They must learn.

Xiuyang was generally not well-liked by animals. At least, that's how it was in the past. Now, however, it was this easy; all she had to do was gently reach out a hand, and she was accepted. It brought a tear to her eye as she ruffled their fur affectionately.

The Dragonhound clumsily fell into the pets, licking aggressively and wanting more love. The albino virangish pointer on the other hand, was shaking and eventually latched on to Xuiyang. She was nervous and that vibe was all the puppy needed. From across the event, Guy did see Xuiyang but he found himself lacking the initiative to approach. Instead he had another glass of wine and let his dogs continue their campaign of stealing pets.

"Goodness," Xiuyang exhaled, spoiling the shy Virangish Pointer. She must have looked like a kid, she realized, knelt down on the floor and surrounded by puppies, letting them climb on her nicest dress without a care. Maybe she was still a child at heart. Maybe that's why all the Yasoi treated her like one.

Maura and Roslyn

Eventually, though, she managed to get the dogs to behave, and parted ways with them. Finally, she spotted Guy, but he seemed to be looking away. She wasn't in a hurry to talk to him, either, after what happened. So, instead, she approached Maura, with rather unfortunate timing—thankfully, unbeknownst to her. "Quite an eventful week we've had, haven't we? I'm so tired, I almost had to be dragged here. Me, the party girl," she japed, taking a sip of her wine.

As Xiuyang arrived, she smiled towards her but lifted an eyebrow as if to ask if she was okay, as she detected the comments and their tone as they communicated in subtle body language. “It seems the party girl has caught herself a party boy to join the festivities with.” She nodded her head toward Ciro speaking with Juulet, “Is it true that his tongue is really made out of silver? ...We need to disappear for a moment, to pamper our noses.” She motioned to her nose while using her elbow to nudge Niallus hard in the leg, strongly hinting to him. “You beautiful people keep talking.” She gestured to Xiuyang for them to move away.

Xiuyang nodded with a slight smile, letting Maura know that she was okay. That was until she turned to regard who Maura was gesturing at, only to find Ciro talking to... Juulet? She instinctively took a step forward, and a look of worry came upon her face as she looked on, trying to get a feel for the tone of their conversation. She tried and failed to hide her sigh of relief as Juulet offered only her usual indifference to humans.

She waved at Niallus and Lunara as she and Maura excused themselves. "Powdering my nose, Maura? Really?" she whispered with a soft chuckle. "Imagine me doing something so feminine," she scoffed playfully. Despite saying so, though, she was definitely wearing a subtle layer of makeup to make her scars less noticeable, perhaps out of respect for Zarina as a host.

At first, she dodged Maura's question, but she eventually relented. Unlike Ciro, she was not bold enough to forego a sonic bubble before speaking her mind. "Believe it or not, behind closed doors... his tongue can be sharp, too. He says what needs to be said, even if I don't want to hear it. Maybe that's why I believe the things he says." She sighed fondly. "I really love him, Maura. I really, really do. He was supposed to be just a business partner, and yet... It just worked, and we both saw it. It's all happening so fast I can barely keep up, but I knew I had to seize this chance. He's the one." As she spoke, she didn't take her eyes off of him for more than a second. This was the girl who had cowered in fear during the Melon Derby, hiding away from Juulet. Now, she appeared ready to rush to Ciro's defense if Juulet so much as stood up from her chair in his general direction.

“Even the prettiest of roses have thorns,” she smiled as she moved to hold Xiuyang’s hand for a moment and gave it a squeeze. “We are happy for you, truly. May it work out well for you, as you deserve some good news after what you have been through this last week alone,” she gave a knowing look as she cast her eyes over to Ciro as she watched him discuss with Juulet. “We know what it is like when we met Abdel,” she moved her eyes as she saw him talking with Dorothea, “It was during that aberration incident a year ago, a crazed Tan Zeno attacked the both of us and Penny. As you can imagine, we could barely keep ourselves out of harm's way. But he was there for me, watching my back at every turn and looking out for me. Still got hurt, nothing is ever perfect, but afterwards, he kept dropping in to see me, making sure we were okay. We knew then, we needed to grab him and make him mine.” She grinned at Xiuyang, “Cute looking too, like your man.” She winked and squeezed the hand tightly before she let go, “You deserve to be treated like royalty, nothing less.”

"I have been through a lot," Xiuyang remarked dryly. "So much so that it's almost frightening that I'm still here. This is the kind of luck you only hear about in history books," she added meaningfully, a slight anxiety in her tone. As Maura squeezed her hand, she suddenly realized, awkwardly, that she was still standing, when there was a perfectly good chair right there. So, she sat.

"He was with me through it all—the pain and struggle and failure. Never once did he judge me, or abandon me, when I know others would have. Even when my ideas were just bad, he at least listened. He never lets me feel like I've wasted my efforts." Her grip on Maura's hand tightened as she reminisced. It wasn't that long ago that Xiuyang had been at rock bottom, wondering what she'd been doing with her life up to now, working for her father's company only to have her position usurped by her elder sister in the end. "...I never thought Ipte would bless me. I'd given up, Maura. I was... prepared to die alone." She drew a breath, willing herself not to cry this time.

"...Doesn't hurt that he's good looking, too," she confessed in agreement, snickering. "I know he'd give me the princess treatment if I let him, but I don't need it. We're a team, and we'll make the world better together. That's a dream. It's everything I wanted and more."

Maura rolled her eyes, “We never said princess treatment; we said treat you like royalty. You know the expression, behind every great king is a greater queen.” She mused for a moment, as she cast her eyes about, looking towards Raffie and Ayla, “We have enough princesses as it is.”

Xiuyang's eyes lazily drifted toward Raffaella. "Oh, hells no. If I allowed myself to become that spoiled, he would lose interest," she replied confidently. "I'm sure he's had enough money hungry women try to seduce him. Probably still trying, too, but he's too much of a gentleman to complain about it to me."

Xiuyang had no pockets to speak of, and she wasn't the type to carry a handbag. However, it was only a matter of time until she felt the slightly irritating sensation of parchment against the side of her neck. Pulling the note from her collar and reading it, her eyes flicked back to Ciro as it disintegrated in her hand. If their eyes met, she'd offered only a defeated shrug. "He does have me beat in almost every way," she added, still speaking to Maura. "I'll have to work hard to catch up."

She shot him a smile of admiration. Really, if she thought at all about how she was in the past, she should have been terrified of this man, with skills and means beyond her understanding. Yet, she loved him. Briefly, she wondered what changed—what led her to accept such a deep bond of trust with someone she couldn't control? Not so long ago, it would have been unthinkable. Yet, he'd been nothing but reliable. Why shouldn't she trust him? Because she "knew better?" Perhaps she had matured, if only slightly, in the aftermath of her struggles to grasp the cruelty of Sipenta.

After a bit of milling around and searching, Roslyn caught sight of Xiuyang and Maura. The pair were locked in conversation while glancing over at Ciro near... Juulet?!? Roslyn blinked in shock at the unexpected image and hoped there wasn't going to be trouble. Upon approaching the two girls, she greeted them kindly.

"Hey, I found you two. Xiuyang, where have you disappeared to lately? And Maura, I wanted to thank you for help at the auction. I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise." She made sure not to stare too much at Xiuyang's scars, she didn't want to be rude after all.

As Roslyn approached, she simply smiled sweetly. "We are not interested in money, though. If you want to offer something in return, we would gladly accept your friendship." She moved her hands onto Roslyn's own and squeezed them, "We just wanted to see people smiling at the auction, so take good care of it."

Xiuyang smiled at Roslyn, inviting her into their sonic bubble. At her unusual shyness, though, she smirked, deciding to playfully put on airs. "Messer Volta has arranged safe lodgings for yours truly," she answered with a mocking imitation of a snooty noble lady. "Not that I cannot defend myself, of course—perish the thought—but we would not want any Perrench rabble to get themselves hurt, now would we?" She winked, then dropped the preposterous accent. "Can't say exactly where. You never know who's listening. I'm aware of the rumors floating about that we're under the same roof and all that, though."

Roslyn let out a soft chuckle at Xiuyang's imitation. It felt good to hear her own thoughts now as she weighed the information.

"Well, you know my opinion of rumors. Unless I have confirmation, I don't believe in them." She said, referring to their conversation during the Society Faire. Roslyn reflected on her next words before adding. "But I understand. The less people that know where you are, the safer it is. I will admit, you two are cute together." She let the tease surface in her voice.

"Smart girl," Xiuyang replied simply. "Then, allow me to offer you confirmation: if you see the Forte Impresa... stay away from it," she warned. "The black flag is famous, but not all pyrates show the courtesy of flying it." She looked at Maura and nodded, her face grim and somewhat sad, warning her as well.

Then, just like that, she stood up, dropping the sonic bubble. "I know! My cuteness score goes up just standing next to him," she japed, as if she'd said nothing of importance at all while the bubble covered them. "I should go back to him, but I just have so many people to talk to."

Jocasta and Tyrel

And talk, she did. First, she walked over to Jocasta, thanking her for, well, everything. It almost sounded like a final farewell, and she promptly turned this into a joke, complete with sarcastic boo-hooing. Then, while her guard was down, she congratulated her and Yalen, and scampered off with a silly grin like she'd just committed some grand act of mischief. Yes, I'm sure you're tired of hearing it, her face seemed to suggest teasingly.

"Is there something I'm missing?" Yalen could be heard saying as Xiuyang departed. "You'd think marriage meant we were going to disappear."

"And it's still months away," Jocasta grumbled in reply. That was the last that Xiuyang heard of their conversation before it was overwhelmed by the party's other noise. Yet, it continued.

"I see you're not using my gift yet," Yalen continued. "Familiarity or does it..."

"Suck?" Jocasta found the word for him. She shook her head, though. "It's wonderful, actually: a superior piece of equipment. I just want to save it for the wedding so I can pass it off as your gift then and you don't keep spending our funds, Yalen Castel."

"Sheesh." He scratched sheepishly at the back of his head. "I feel like I'm being chided by a parent right now."

"Ah, so you have that kind of fantasy, do you?" She burst out laughing. After a moment, so did he.

...

Then, after mingling a bit, Xiuyang approached Tyrel, with a polite and unusually graceful bow. "Your radiance. I thank you again for giving me a chance. You saved my life in at least three ways, maybe more. Meeting you was worth the trouble Juulet caused me. My only regret is that my lacking talents held you back. You deserved better." She looked up at Tyrel with a sheepish smile. Her words were sincere, but something about her eyes seemed impish, suggesting that Tyrel should be in on some kind of joke. The joke being, perhaps, that because they were firmly in their social roles at the moment, she couldn't simply brush off her praise. In much the same manner that others might put on a show and fill Tyrel's ears with empty words, Xiuyang plainly spoke her mind.

Tyrel had begun to let herself go at this point. She'd had a good few drinks. She'd arm-wrestled Miret and some other girl, made out with Chad in the garden, and a couple of her fleeting tetsoi were already beginning to rub off. Chad was sweet-talking some yanii girl and was alone momentarily. Tyrel was... perhaps not ready for such an earnest moment and it caught her off-guard. The first hour or so had been reserved for those, with the rest set aside for just... being a yasoi.

She fell back on her as-manufactured settings responded by deflecting. "The goddess thanks you for your praise and homage and accepts your penance," she responded with mock-formal grandeur. Then, she sighed. "Nobody deserves anything here, pal." She shrugged, taking a couple idle restless steps as yasoi were wont to do and ending up exactly where she'd started. "We get what we earn and what the gods give us. I've had a helluva time here, all said, so I owe you just as much for being a part of it." She paused. "Well, saving your hide is maybe worth a teensy bit more," she admitted with a smirk, "But we'll work out a payment plan for that debt."

Xiuyang offered a ladylike chuckle from behind a dainty hand in response to the faux formalities. If their roles were reversed, she'd have likely done the same or a similar bit. "I'm inclined to agree. In a perfect world, that would be right—but at times, I see the gods offer only opportunities, and what is earned is not always given by the powers that be. Sometimes, you have to take it," she said, running a finger around the rim of her wine glass.

She downed yet another drink, in a quite unladylike way. "I owe you a debt, do I?" Her sigh was heavy with sarcasm. "Guess it can't be helped; I suppose you'll just have to accept an unconditional favor from this shady-looking Yanii." A conspiratorial smile graced her lips.

"You speak as if that wasn't my plan all along. Now the shady Grey Army operative on the charm offensive has bound the shady yanii to her in loyalty." She steepled her fingers together most evilly. "Muahahahaaaa.... or something." She downed a half-full glass in a single gulp, swaying a bit. "I find myself very tempted, in fact, to get rip-roaring drunk for some reason." The Avatar of Vyshta furrowed her brow. "I don't quite know why!" she giggled.

"You planned it all? I'm shocked," Xiuyang replied, feigning shock and maybe even a little offense. "Truly, I have been finessed, outfoxed even." She took another drink of the Ellermane Bleu. "I'll say this, though: any debts I owe to the goddess, are owed to you—not the Grey Fleet or its Admiralty."

It would be a gross exaggeration to say that Xiuyang had planned it all exactly the way it happened. Of course, everything had gone horribly wrong in every possible way that it could; in the end, though, "owing Tyrel" a favor or three had been her aim, and fortunately, she'd achieved it. More fortunately still, Tyrel seemed to understand. Yasoi were loathe to accept help from Yanii, lest they exact some price for their services at a later date. The fear was not unfounded, but it made honest generosity difficult. This was Xiuyang's foot successfully in the door, so she believed.

"Some say this wine is good for closing business deals. That's the superstition, anyway. Alcohol's not supposed to work on me, although... I guess it does? Just can't seem to put the stuff down." She smiled slyly.

Tyrel downed some more. "Well, you've gotten me plenty sauced up." She paused and tilted her head to the side. "What do you want, yanii?" she asked, her voice still lighthearted enough, but a note wariness, or perhaps weariness had crept in beneath a surface of good humour.

Xiuyang's face fell slightly as she briefly regarded her drink, rather than Tyrel. "To see the Yasoi thrive. ...Yanii are poor stewards of peoples and land. History teaches what will happen if they grow stronger and more numerous, while the Yasoi remain weakened. They'll do the same to your kind as they do to each other. Do you think it an arrogance on my part to assume that I might play a role in averting that?" She looked at Tyrel seriously. "I'm not some wide-eyed idealist. I don't see a future where Yanii and Yasoi walk hand-in-hand in a unified society. Peace exists only when war and conquest are less profitable than cooperation and trade. It's cynical, but it's true. Few pay attention to history. Fewer learn from it. Fewer still have the power to change its course, and choose to do so, let alone on behalf of others. I'm asking you to be open to giving me a chance to someday be one of those few. ...The chance Juulet refused me," she added, the fear of rejection plain on her face. "If I must get something out of it for you to trust me, call it 'leaving my mark on history,' or something."

Tyrel seemed to consider. She was drunk, but perhaps not as drunk as she seemed. From the direction of Zarina, Miret, and Chad came laughter and loud conversation. Cal was with them, not pushing drugs for once, and even Seviin had been drawn in and she was blushing ferociously. "Well what was I supposed to do!?" she laugh-wailed. "I had to try to win and it was all I could think of, you know!"

Both of their eyes flicked there for a moment before Tyrel's returned. "I trust you, suunei. I trust you to be honest in your intent." She shrugged. "Much as the current situation will allow, I'm open to working together." She poured herself some more wine and, without asking, topped Xiuyang up as well. "Thing is... I have to know that you can keep the peace, and Juulet... distasteful a thing as she can be at times, might be the key to that. I know well your history with her. I shall hold her to account once I've established more of a rapport, but..." Tyrel hesitated, glancing down at her wine.

Xiuyang's eyes narrowed, though not with malice. "She told Jamboi that I'd be fine—but she confessed to me that she didn't expect me to survive. She's a snake—and the tongue of a snake is good for tickling ears. I don't know what she said to 'make up' with you, Tyrel, but I wouldn't trust a word of it. That woman's only out for herself."

She punctuated her accusation by downing her drink in one go. "You were there. You saw what I had to deal with. Those dogs would have roasted me over an open flame after they were done beating me within an inch of my life. I'll have nightmares about it until the day I die, and she thinks it's funny. The only peace that woman will ever make is the peace I've made with death," she spat. "—but no. I'm not stupid enough to try to fight her again. You don't need to worry about that."

Whatever Tyrel might've said next, it died on her tongue. She offered up a noncommittal shrug. "I am under no illusion that she's a good person," she replied. "You needn't worry." She downed the last of her drink as well. "Just as I needn't worry about you going rogue." She set it down and ran a finger along the lip. "We're both reasonable, functional people here, after all."

Cal seemed to have pulled Chad aside and they were speaking in hushed tones. She craned her neck to look their way, half-rising. "Speaking of..." She bit her lower lip and glanced back at Xiuyang. "I may have a boyfriend to go save from a certain conversation." She began reaching for her crutches - the new ones she'd picked from The Trials.

Xiuyang made a slightly dismissive hand gesture, like she were dropping dice on the table, or perhaps dropping the matter at hand. Out of your minds, both of you, she thought privately.

Then, she caught Tyrel reaching for her crutches. "Uh, Tyrel? What are you planning on doing with those?" she japed, laughing nervously.

"Something nefarious," she joked, "and definitely not just walking." She grinned, resting her stump on the table's edge for a moment and fixing her dress. "Come 'ere, suunei. Let's hug. Then I have to go spend time with my boyfriend. Don't you have one somewhere around here too?"

Xiuyang stood up, smiling and hugging the Avatar of Vyshta without a care. "I do, but it's not good to be too clingy. He's a busy bee. For a merchant, a party is never just a party. That goes for both of us, of course." She gave Tyrel a wink and a grin. "I have business with that man, anyway. I believe I owe him feedback on his product. I'll occupy him for you." With that, she "excused" herself, though she was going essentially the same direction as Tyrel. She greeted Cal with a wave.

Cal {Placeholder}

Words Which Cut Deeper Than Scars

For a while, Xiuyang mingled with the Yasoi, keeping an eye on Tyrel to ensure she didn't wander off and discover something she didn't need to see. Eventually, though, conversation died down, and she'd run well out of excuses to stay. None would say it openly, of course, but... if the "tree-rider" had no business, she was an eyesore to most of them. Ashon was different, but he was also not present.

So it was that Xiuyang eventually wandered off, herself, wondering if she should excuse herself and check up on Marci. It would be the first time she'd use facemimicry since the incident in Yarsoc, and she couldn't be sure what it would do to her. Still, she couldn't just not use it for the rest of her life out of fear—but that was when her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of clumsy footsteps in the grass.

"You aren't leaving, are you?!" a sweet voice called out to her urgently.

Xiuyang whirled around to see the girl with the pink hair giving her that same fake smile she always did. "I wanted to meet you! Since you're an illusionist like me." She almost whispered the last two words. "I just have to ask! I'm like, dying of curiosity—why don't you use your magic to hide your scars? Since you don't wanna wear a mask anymore." Her smile was as saccharine as ever.

Xiuyang couldn't help but smirk, just slightly. A few tactless fools had asked her why she didn't just heal them, but this was the first time she'd been asked why she didn't hide them instead. "I suppose the easy answer is that I'm doing it to fu—mess with someone," she replied truthfully, correcting her language in spite of herself due to the girl's innocent appearance. It was true, though Juulet's reaction had been pretty disappointingly underwhelming. Then again, everyone's reaction was underwhelming. No one pointed and laughed at her facial scars. A few people, including Roslyn, refused to gawk out of courtesy. There just wasn't much point in hiding them.

"But don't you think your boyfriend finds them uh, unsightly?" the girl replied, without an ounce of malice in her tone of voice. Yet, it irked Xiuyang a little.

"He's never once said such a thing to me. I doubt he cares about them. He likes me because I'm an intelligent business partner," she replied confidently. Really, a marital union between two Revidian merchants is more or less a glorified business deal, anyway, she considered, laughing to herself.

"Ppfft," Raffaella scoffed, blowing a raspberry. "Boys don't like it when a girl is smarter than them—or stronger, taller, older... The one thing we're allowed is to be better looking than them. The world of girls runs on cuteness!" she proclaimed, somewhat absurdly. "I'm sure he just hasn't said anything because he's a gentleman. Deep down, all guys are the sa—"

Smack.

It was sudden, and ruthless. Raffaella stumbled backwards onto the grass. Her cheek stung, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Why..?! I was just giving you honest advice! Why are you so mean?!" She glared upwards at Xiuyang.

The older girl's hand trembled with barely-withheld rage. "Hurl all the thinly-veiled insults you like at me—but don't you ever compare Ciro to some common scoundrel," Xiuyang growled.

Raffaella sobbed. "I hate you, Shoe-yang! Unlike me, you only have friends because you have money!" she choked out, scrambling to her feet and running away, crying.

A heavy feeling settled in Xiuyang's gut, in spite of herself. The girl was fake and empty inside, but she still felt bad for hitting her. Was she right, too? Were her friendships only as deep as her pockets? A great many of them were business partners, she realized, and it was her own doing; relationships were easier to navigate in terms of favors owed and given, rather than the messy and vague terms often offered by "friendship."

The abrasive words, spoken in puerile teen anger and ignorance, cut at her like a rusted knife—until she, too, wanted to cry—but, she refused. Ducking behind the railing of a nearby pavilion, she grit her teeth, teetering on the edge of tears. Stubbornly, she choked them back, bottling up her anger until it felt like she might vomit. Mercifully, she did not.

"Shallow bitch," she allowed herself, her voice barely above a whisper.

The Hourglass Order

Xiuyang Solari, Fait Accompli

docs.google.com/document/d/1C90mqNIAr…

Raffaella Mataracı, Raffscallions

docs.google.com/document/d/1Sb2EXbwJg…

The Hourglass Order

A Pale Imitation

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An Open Window, and a Draft

For once, Raffaella slept soundly in her bed, through the night of her arrival at Ersand'Enise. The funny-tasting "medicine" her maid had given her probably had something to do with that—but! Then again, she was so very exhausted from the traveling, and this bed was just so soft. All these and other frivolous thoughts floated through her mind as she snuggled her pillow, trying to drift away one more time for a few extra minutes of peaceful slumber. Yet, it was not to be. Her last few minutes of sleep were fraught with struggle as she found herself paralyzed in bed. The sensation of a hand pressing into her back made it difficult to breathe as it put its imaginary weight on her frail body, causing her to feel as though she were being crushed. Then came the incomprehensible whispers.

م̸̱̍ن̷̦̎̏̐͠ ̵̨͔̳͎̄̃̈̀͜ا̷̫͗ل̷͙̮̗͋ذ̸̣̱̭̼͈̼͚͎̲͊̂̈̍̍̇ي̸̪̀̊͛̔́ ̷̗̦̣͒ت̶̦̞͍̪̿̓͊ه̵̧̼̐͊́̾̌̐͛̕ر̴̭̜̣̹͊͗̀̈́͑̃̍͜͝ب̶̧̢͇͖̥̈́̍̃̎ ̷̱͚̞̺̼̈̓̊̀͒̍͘م̵̼̱̫̓̽͗̿̊̔ن̵̠̓͆͋̀́͒͘̚ه̸̱̰̯͈̐̃؟̴̙̍̋͐͐̐͠ م̸͉̉ن̷͙͋ ̶̪͌ا̴͈͌ل̶͈̃ذ̴̱̐ي̴̦͌ ̵̗͠ت̵̮͌ه̸̯͝ر̵͎̚ب̷̛͎ ̸̛͔م̵̜̏ن̷̗̓ه̸̻̍؟̵̰͘ م̷͇́̽ن̵̗͐́͊̚ ̶̡̡͚̦̗̌̏͛̓͂ا̷͍̣̙͔̀̒̍͋͊ل̵̧̠͍̰̼̣͒̂̍̈́̂̂̕ذ̷̯̰̘͎͕͘͜͜ي̴̱̙͊ ̸̡͚̖̬̠̭̂̀̓̋̑͑̚ت̸̢̪̅͛͑͐̓͑͌ه̵̧͈͓͕̲̝̍̏͂̈ر̵̢̘̗̀́ب̸̛͎̱̬͒͆̄̎̋̚ ̶̛̫̉͘م̷̧̛̬̥̣̖̼̌͗̐̏ͅن̴͖̃̃̿͜ه̶̡̰͇̮̏̈́̒̂̀̆͜؟̵̲̯͚͒̈ م̶̫̏ن̷͍͗ ̶̠͝ا̷͚̌ل̸̝͑ذ̷̗͒ي̸̤͛ ̴̤̎ت̸̲̊ه̵͈͊ر̶̦͝ب̶̰̓ ̶̤͐م̷͍́ن̷͙̉ه̴̺̔؟̴̏͜ م̸̛̛̼̲̭̹̜̿̀̽͛̌̓͆̔̅̚ن̴̦͈͚͓̻͍̪̥́̆̔̿̀̚̚ ̶̯̞̆̿͗̈́̎̈́͆̈́̀̎ا̷͙̫̖͔̻̖̦͙̀̐̉̐͂̂̏ͅل̸̛̛̹͂̎͛̊̃̎͑͘͝͠ذ̴̨̨̯̠̤̼͍͓̺̥̖́̾̽͊̃̔̈́̑͑͛̊̕ͅي̸̤͙̮̹̻̟̤̓̿̈́͝ ̷̛̟͎̭͚͐ت̶̛̘̰̳͕̟͈̙͗͒͑ه̵̢̙͉̰̱͖͓̖̋͋͂̍ر̶̢͙͎͙̮̫̑̄̄̽̊̈́̃́̃̋̕͜͠ب̷̡̙̦̘̗̼̫͌͆̋͌̀͠͠ ̶̯̱̘̻̠̬̬̰͕͍͕͖̓̋̈͛͗̍͑̄م̵̛̱̮̳̪̭͇̝̯̟̭͍̆̈́̉̈́̃ن̶̜͔̲̙̤͉̞͔͆͊͒͊͛ه̷͎̗͔̺̩͐̅̂̀̀؟̶̢̠̙̗͚̝͕̀

Eventually, the girl's eyes snapped open. The imaginary pressure on her body vanished, but the very real pain lingered. So, it was gonna be one of those days... nah. To heck with that! She threw the sheets of her bed off, sprang to her feet, and opened a window. "Hello, Sipenta! Hello, Ersand'Enise!" she cheered, beaming at nothing and nobody in particular. "Hello, you weirdo," replied one of many new classmates whose face she wouldn't recognize. Raffaella puffed her cheek out. "What was that sound I heard just now~? Gosh, there must be a draft today~" she sassed back, shutting the window. Then, she blinked, and gasped. "The draft for the Trials! It's today!" she realized, rushing to get ready. She didn't know why the Trials were all that important—heck, she didn't even know why she was being transferred to this school. It wasn't her mother's idea. It certainly wasn't her idea. At her old school, everyone knew who she was. Here, well... people could be so darn rude!

It wouldn't stop with the rude interruption of her morning routine, either. When the time came for the team captains to choose students from her pool, she was picked second last. Sure, she hadn't exactly left a big impression during last year's Trials, but! Surely being cute had to count for something, right?! So she thought, anyway. Yet, no sooner had the draft ended than the team captain who chose her, Marz, was already looking to trade her away—for a girl with no legs. Perhaps, the students of Ersand'Enise didn't appreciate cuteness, she feared. But! Just as she was about to cry, she overheard a boy named Tommy say something.

"What do you say? Personally, she's cuter. In a... obtuse sorta way?"

Ohb-toose? What did that word mean? Well, whatever! She'd take it! Some shy introductions were made, along with some other trades, but Raffaella didn't pay much attention to that. She kinda just let Tommy do what he wanted; he appreciated cuteness, and for that, he was deserving of the role of team captain. He even named the team "Raffscallions" in her honor! So she supposed, anyway. She would certainly hope that it wasn't all just a big joke.

Melons! Melons Everywhere!

The Melon Derby—no, the Great Melon Derby! The classic, the original! The fun one. While she dangled her legs over the edge of her chair, swinging them back and forth, her teammates discussed strategy. While Tommy wondered why his team hadn't received a box to defend for Thieving Cherune, Raffie tilted her head from side to side innocently, hugging her slightly heavier book bag. When all the boring negotiations were done, it was decided that she would serve as a distraction. Raffaella would blaze through the air every which way but wherever the other members of the team were, carrying an illusory Melon Supreme. Sister Dominica would follow her around to create the illusion and back her up if needed. Ah. So, put a tracer on the tiny child and let her run around, while I babysit. Fun, Dominica thought. Absolutely no one is falling for this.

As soon as the event started, she was off—and boy, was she off. For some reason, her flying felt extra "flyey" today. Like, wow! Boing~! She rocketed straight for the cathedral district and the main church building: a landmark suitable and worthy of the Melon Supreme. Seconds later, she was speeding back out, carrying the Melon Supreme—though, it was not; it was a pale imitation of the real thing.

Suddenly, she saw her—the one-legged yasoi, heading north toward the King's Ear base. The sight of her rattled Raffaella to her core. As if her body had suddenly given up the ghost, her eyes went dark, the arcane sparkles vanishing. Yet, her body continued to move.

The Chase!

Raffaella slowly descended to the front door of the base and opened the door. Walking inside, she walked face-first into Pluurii.

"Erm, Raffie? This isn't our base, sweetie," Sister Dominica informed her. "...Raffie?" she prodded, poking the girl's cheek for a response.

"Cake..." Raffaella mumbled, walking further inside toward the Palaparese sisters.

Mahal tensed when she heard the door. Her form quickly rose to her feet and moved into Raffie's path, blocking the girl from going farther. An Inpori curse escaped through gritted teeth. It was like Juulet's intrusion invited others to also invade their base.

"Who are you?" Mahal snapped instinctively.

Raffaella jolted awake, or to something resembling a half-sleep. "I'm Raffaella, ma'am," she groggily responded without missing a beat, rubbing her eyes. Holding the shining melon close to her chest, she looked around the base, as if searching for a nice spot to put an expensive vase on display.

The base was... unfamiliar. These people were unfamiliar. In fact, only Sister Dominica's hand on her shoulder was familiar. "Oh," she calmly remarked, as if suddenly having an epiphany about something mundane, like why she'd just entered a room. "This is... the wrong room," she said, covering her mouth with a hand as she let out a yawn.

She placed the hand back on the melon. She looked at the melon. Then, she looked up at Mahal. Then, back down at the melon. As if it took a minute for her brain to catch up, her eyes suddenly snapped open. "Oh."

Mahal didn't take her eyes off Raffaella, noticing the melon in the girl's grasp. It looked like the supreme melon, but was it really? That question stirred Mahal to close in. Already she expected a fight to spark over it. She had seen Lunara's kindness in work and made her own attempt.

With the gentlest voice she could muster, she spoke to Raffaella. "Nice to meet you, Raffaella. I am Mahal. May I see what you got there? Please?"

Raffaella blinked, appearing unsure how to respond. Dominica stifled a giggle. "I don't think my team would like that very much, so I'm gonna go—" Raffie was saying, but was stopped when the door kinetically slammed shut. Immediately, she bolted away from the mummified yasoi and Palaparese girls, running around the room, vaulting over chairs and sliding under tables. "It's mine!" she spat childishly.

Mahal's expression darkened when Raffaella spoke. Her hand raised to the door and muttered a spell, it snapping shut to stop them. With that tension released, things broke into a chase. "Lunara, deal with the other girl. I got the melon one."

Wasting little time, Mahal streaked after the ruffled girl, hot on her tail.

Raffaella dashed into the kitchen, "avoiding" several Shadowy Defenders on the way. They made halfhearted attempts to grab her, more to stop her from hurting herself than anything.

Some pan handles carelessly left dangling over the edges of the counters were knocked aside; dishes clattered here and there. "Aw, they ate it all," she remarked, spotting the remains of where the cake had been, scooping up some frosting with a finger. It was still in her mouth when Mahal rounded the corner.

Mahal heard the pale girl dash for the kitchens, nimbly evading their allies. In truth, it didn't seem like they took this seriously at all. As she rounded the corner, the Palaparese girl lounged for the melon. Raffaella twisted on a dime and rushed to the side. Her clawed hands narrowed missed the arms cradling the prize. Not predicting it well, Raffaella zipped past her easily. Rushing about the counter, she swiftly rounded about to catch up again.

"You're going to give me that melon, now!" She growled.

"No! I'm not giving it!" she squeaked back, jumping over an island counter, making an even bigger mess. She then bolted out the back door, running down a back alley near a distinctly Perrench team's base. She turned abruptly northwest toward one of the bigger roads.

Sister Dominica had been standing there, looking at Lunara with her head cocked to the side, wondering how she was going to "deal with" her, when she suddenly spotted a bright light out the window. Casually, she opened the door of the Nice Ones' base and grabbed Raffaella by the scruff of her school uniform, plucking her into the air. "Alright, that's enough," she said patiently.

Mahal gritted her teeth, she wasn't about to give up easily to a brat. Her feet kicked off her shoes as she slipped into the running girl's wake. She moved like a Goma cat hunting a Thunder Tamarin. She kinetic slammed her feet against the ground, kicking herself onto the nearest roof. It was soft enough to avoid any damage indicating she had done this many times before. She scaled onto the top quickly then rushed to catch up to Raffaella. The Palaparese girl bounced from roof to roof. Seeing the maliit make a turn, Mahal moved to intercept. She jumped to the roof of their base before sliding down to the street below in a smooth motion. The flash of bright light distracted her as Raffie's teammate put the chase to a stop.

Seeing her quarry in front of her, Mahal approached the front door. Her chest heaved slighly, but her eyes locked on the goal.

Mahal dove for the melon, using an internal chemical "attack" to cause Raffaella's fingers to loosen. She defended adequately, but then Mahal "tripped" on a subtle binding trick from Sister Dominica. Mahal, almost regaining her balance but not quite, careened straight into Raffie.

Splat.

A thick cloud of pungent and sticky vapor enveloped the trio. The "Melon Supreme" was, in fact, the inferno lemon. Sister Dominica had been holding a dummy lemon the entire time.

Dominica closed her eyes, and the corner of her patient smile twitched. "Well. I certainly tried to stop you," she remarked bluntly.

"Eww," Raffaella moaned, her eyes watering from the stench as she tried in vain to get the stuff off her little hands.

While a small and harmless prank, Mahal stayed where she landed. She had been brought to all fours to keep her face from colliding with the dirt. Anger trembled across her form as Father's voice snaked its way into her thoughts. Worthless girl.

She clutched her fingers into fists while hot, angry tears began to sting her eyes. The air around her began to chill and lightning began to crackle across her form. Slowly, she rose onto her feet and glared at the pair. Her lips twisted up into a snarl. Spotting her sister's patience running dry, Lunara pushed past the two. Her native tongue rapidly poured out in hopes to calm her sister.

"Ate, ayos lang. Huwag gumawa ng isang bagay na padalus-dalos. Alam kong galit ka, pero pag-isipan mo." Her hands gently gripped Mahal's shoulders.

Mahal tensed before she gradually relaxed, the lightning dying almost instantly. She looked at Lunara with a pained look who nodded. With a gentle tug, Lunara encouraged her to enter. While moving past their opponents, she paused and switched back to Avincian.

"You two should likely come in as well to clean up."

Raider looked ready to protest, but he merely shrugged. He sent his teammates off who returned shortly with buckets of water, and rags. Lunara sat Mahal down and offered her a rag. Sighing, Mahal took it and began to clean off the sticky, yellow mess from her skin.

"Um, are you okay..?" Raffaella prodded as she watched Mahal tremble in what she initially thought may have been pain. When she rose in anger, the mini-Miattan brought her hands up to her shoulders in a frightened self-hug, eyes wide with fear.

Sister Dominica, despite her vanishingly little patience remaining for the antics of this tiny child, quickly pulled Raffaella close and drew heat from the surrounding air, giving Mahal a no-less cold and stern look. It all proved unnecessary due to her sister's intervention.

Raffaella was more than a little embarrassed. The "adults in the room" didn't even seem to care about the melon derby, which made her feel foolish. She sat across from Sister Dominica, pouting a little. Dominica picked up a rag and started wiping her own face off. When she noticed Raffaella wasn't doing the same, she tossed her a second rag. "You can clean yourself. You're not a baby."

Raffaella jolted as the rag hit her face. When the rag came off, her demeanor completely changed. She was almost solemn as she started clearing the goo from her cheeks.

Mahal pulled off a rather long string of goo from her arm, dangling it from her fingers. She frowned at how sticky it was. It stretched between her fingers as she pulled them apart. With a shake, it flung off her hand onto Raffie's dress. Her other one reached into her snack pouch to pull out a small brown chunk and chomp down on it. A loud crunch came while she chewed it before swallowing it.

Raffaella's face soured. It looked like it could have been an accident, but that was how people got away with things like that. The girl pulled the blob of slime off her dress with an obvious intent to flick it back at her dress.

Dominica snatched her hand and held it firm. "Any more from you two and I'm dragging you both to the bath house, and neither one of you will come out of there until you're best friends. Understood?" she warned.

Raffie pouted, but she let go of the goo. Or, she tried to, anyway, which Dominica took as an acceptable reply from a young brat.

Spotting Raffaella about to flip the ooze back on her, Mahal's eyes narrowed. She began to draw in with the intention to repel the incoming offense with her magnetic. However, it wasn't needed. Upon catching the woman's buff, she scoffed. "That will not happen. Not even if my ancestors asked it."

She clicked her teeth at the notion. "Why would you protect a lemon like that anyways? It does not make sense."

"Tommy made me do it!" Raffaella insisted. "I told him I was fast, and he made me bait!" she pouted. "It's not like I wanted to mess up your hair, or anything!" she proclaimed, crossing her arms in a sassy manner. Though, she clearly wasn't regretting Mahal's state, given how she'd acted towards her.

I only agreed to this plan because it made it easy for me to keep tabs on the tiny child, Dominica wanted to add—but she kept her mouth shut.

"I doubt you are sorry." Mahal retorted, her temper gradually shimmering down. Part of her wanted to smack the spoiled child, but she resisted. Not even Lunara was this bad.

"You also walked into our base. What did you think was going to happen?" Her form was up before she realized it and towered over the smaller student.

"That was... um, a mistake," Raffie confessed, unsure where to even begin explaining her condition. "It's called sleepwalking, and, um... sometimes, it... happens." She trailed off.

Dominica did her best to appear preoccupied with her nails, but she had her eye on Mahal, even if it didn't look like it.

Mahal cocked her head to the side. She felt Lunara's stares causing her anger to fade, leaving only lingering shame. The woman sighed for what felt like the tenth time. Straightening up, she crossed her arms over her chest and weighed the truth.

"So it is like my... hunger. You can not stop it? Is there herbs or something for it?"

Raffaella felt a little pang of guilt. She knew what the hunger was like, too. Suddenly, having one up on Mahal didn't seem so important anymore. "Nope..." She frowned. "I mean. People tell me 'coffee,' but..! I hate coffee." She stuck her tongue out to emphasize the point.

Being the daughter of a coffee plantation owner, Mahal's right eyebrow rose. She clicked her tongue against her teeth as she retorted. "What's wrong with coffee?"

Her foot tapped on the floor a bit, waiting for an answer.

"Because! It's so bitter!" Raffie replied as though it were obvious. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"Because she's your friend," Dominica replied flatly, looking at neither of them but having a smug smirk on her face.

Raffaella blinked, and blushed. She said nothing.

Raffaella was still cleaning off the stubborn inferno lemon juice when she suddenly perked up, looking directly at Mahal, as if she noticed something. Sister Dominica picked up on her sudden movement and looked, too—and also seemed to notice something.

Raffaella's eyes drooped while Dominica's widened. As the servant of Eshiran stiffened in posture, Ipte's Penitent gazed impassionately, her lips slightly parted, drool forming at the corner of her mouth. Then, she stood up and walked forward, eyes locked on something behind Mahal.

"Raffie, no! Don't touch it!" Dominica barked, leaping up and grabbing her in a tight bear hug.

"Hweh?" Raffaella jolted slightly. "But, it's so pretty..." she mumbled, reaching out as far as she could with her little arms.

Behind Mahal was a rainbow—except, it couldn't have possibly been one. Its existence and its shape made no logical sense. It could only be an aberration!

Mahal scowled at Dominica's statement. Her eyes rolled as she slouched in her seat, her legs stretched and crossed at the ankles. She continued wonder how much longer Johann and the bitch would take. A prick of eyes brushing her skin drew the Palapnar girl's attention. Her eyes snapped back to see Raffaella suddenly stand and move toward her. Before Mahal could react, she caught Dominica's warning. Her head jerked to glimpse a strange sight of a rainbow.

Her form immediately stood upright, blocking Raffie's line of sight.

"What is that?"

"It's an aberration, stay away! Don't touch it!" Dominica reiterated urgently.

Raffaella, still half-asleep, drew the rainbow-colored anomaly a bit closer, putting both her and Mahal in its path.

"No!" Dominica shouted, throwing Raffaella off of her and shoving Mahal out of the way. If the young students insisted on trying to draw it in, she could draw harder, and had a better chance at surviving its effects. As she began to absorb it, she turned to Mahal. "I don't know what will happen! Take Raffie and run! GO!!"

Mahal's teeth gritted together, her eyes narrowed on the strange thing. A small part of her wanted to protest and ignore Dominica. Her common sense, however, won in the end. She cursed in Inpori then rushed at Raffie. Her arms caught the girl around the middle as her kinetic popped open the door. Her voice carried behind her, "Lunara, warn Tku!"

Somehow, Mahal managed to pick up Raffaella without waking her from her half-asleep state; and in doing so, she would realize just how small she was. Beneath the frills and ribbons and poofy dress, she was a tiny thing, to a degree that just wasn't normal for someone with the privilege of attending Ersand'Enise.

"Aw," she moaned in disappointment. "It looked tasty..." She yawned.

While Mahal carried Raffaella, the crowd which had by now begun to panic drove them southwest, away from the King's Ear base. In the distance, the Academy grounds adjacent to the Cathedral District were being used as a gathering space for injured students.

Mahal left her in the care of the academy's binders as the chaos unfolded around them.

In the end, Raffscallions placed 3rd in the Great Melon Derby, with a final score of 4108.

The Undesirables

Next was the Dragon—a notoriously difficult and unabashedly dangerous relay race. Once again, Raffaella let her teammates decide on the actual strategy. Apparently, she was to join the absurdly-named "Giggling Calamari" in reducing the numbers of an invasive species in... wherever they were going. Raffie didn't really pay attention to that part.

At least, no one thought she did.

As she stood on the shores of Kiluaho, she contemplated something. Making pizzas, collecting eggs, digging up treasures, catching invasive creatures—and yesterday too, gathering melons. Weren't all of these competitions just excuses for the biros of Ersand'Enise to go around... running errands? Only the mushroom maze portion really felt like a pure and simple race. It was almost as if the Zenos threw it in there for the sake of keeping up the Dragon's fearsome reputation—having a leg of the race knock out a majority of teams, in this case literally, with its psychedelic fog. Wouldn't they have been able to help the locals of Kiluaho more if they just skipped that part, though? What was the point of this? Why not just be honest and upfront, and do this in the spirit of cooperation? Such were the thoughts that idly fluttered through her mind as she furiously fanned herself, before remembering that cryogenic arcane spells were a thing. Oops.

Giggling Calamari stood leaning against a tree, engrossed in a lollipop. She'd been eyeing Raffaella suspiciously ever since she used her chemical magic to keep the pestilence that was the massive swarms of mosquitoes away from the two of them. Now, she was fanning herself with arcane magic, and despite her reputation as a fragile little marshmallow who would probably melt in just a tiny bit of rain, she had managed to do both of these things without complaining about the conditions of the environment a single time. Was her reputation not a deserved one? She certainly looked like a tiny little crybaby.

All Calamari had to do was wait, however.

Raffie had a brilliant plan, and even came up with it all by herself! She would use her chemical magic to signal to the threshers, basically making herself smell like "mom" to coax them out, and it was working! Reaching out with her little arms, she beckoned the "kids" to come to her, her warm eyes sparkling with wonder. Soon after their arrival, however, Taleja set about making as much noise as possible, causing the creatures they were supposed to be catching to scatter. They fled, and much to Raffaella's dismay—decidedly not into her arms. Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched the chaos unfold around her. "Why?!" she demanded. "Can't you see we're supposed to be helping these people?! Who cares about the race?! You're all so SELFISH!!"

The locals could tell that she was upset, but as long as she wasn't hurt, they didn't seem to have time for her. Taleja was either ignoring her or couldn't hear her over the sound of her own racket. The only one who acknowledged her was Calamari. "Girl, you are reading into this way too much. It ain't that deep. There's plenty more o' these girls, and more beach for us to use. Come on," she grumbled, dragging Raffie by the arm. If she was easily upset, she was surely easy to please. The girls took their time exploring, with Raffaella being rewarded with a Golden Emperor Conch for her efforts.

That wasn't all, either. While she was gathering up the rosy threshers, she came across an abandoned nest of five torpedo thresher pups—and they, too, were irresistibly drawn to her. One, with a pearlescent coloring, caught the girl's eye immediately. Scooping her up in her hand, she brought her in for a closer look, her eyes gleaming. "Wow~ Arnshu jusha cutest?!" she cooed to the little critter, which then proceeded to pinch her right on the cheek. "Awh~ Shtawp! Legwo!" she cried, trying to pry the girl's claw open, but it was to no avail. The girl had staked her claim on a new mom and would not let go.

Calamari shuddered as she watched the threshers crawl all over her partner. She thinks they're cute? Just what kind of creature is she?!

...

The night after The Dragon, Raffaella was wandering around the school grounds like usual, when suddenly a massive figure appeared. It was... that one-legged yasoi, again?! "HIIIEEEEEEEE!! Don't come near meeeee~!" she screamed, taking off and flying as fast as she could—but the yasoi lady was faster! "C'mere, you!" she growled, tackling Raffaella and squeezing her tightly. "You really are tiny, huh?" she teased as Raffie struggled. "Gimme the box, you! I know you have it!" "No! You can't have Mr. Box!" She said as she clung tightly to her book bag. "Oh yeah? Take this!" Tyrel replied as she tickled the small yanii trapped in her arms. "N-No! Ahahaha! Anything but that! No, nono, AHAHAHAHA!! Uncle! UNCLE!!" she cried, relinquishing the box. "Thank you much~" Tyrel grinned and ruffled Raffie's hair before flying off.

Only Up!

The next day, another fellow student came to relieve Raffaella of a Cherune box. This time, it was Mahal, predictably offering her some sweets. Raffie gave her a token little "humph," and informed her that she was (in fact!) something of a connoisseur of sweets, and she'd need quite the selection to impress her—and... wow, that was quite the selection of exotic sweets. Raffie could do without the chocolate-covered bugs, but the vast majority of it looked very good and made her quiet curious. After a battle of will that didn't last terribly long, she handed the box over to Mahal. "Sorry, Mr. Box," she murmured as she relinquished the second Cherune box in as many days. She was a creature of habit, not self-discipline.

...

The day of the next Trial came, and it was met with more Taleja shenanigans. This time, she was harassing the Soul Sisters. Raffie furrowed her brow in disapproval as she watched her "negotiate" with the Soul Sisters, and then Jocasta—an exchange that ended with her being flung into the water some distance away. "Woop woop~! Get dunked, Tally-girl~" She cheered for Jocasta as she burst out laughing. Several other students watched her and snickered as she recoiled in embarrassment at her public outburst.

As the time of preparation neared, Raffaella began leaving strange tins that Desmond had prepared inside every aircraft she could find, as stealthily as possible as he had instructed. As she stood outside the basket of one hot air balloon, she turned one of the tins over in her hand, curious about its contents. There seemed to be some kind of thicker-than-water liquid inside—and, it was cold! "What's that?" one student asked suspiciously as he caught her standing next to his team's craft. "Um." She blinked, realizing that she didn't actually know. "Ice cream, I think. Desmond told me I'd get some if I passed these out to everyone, all sneaky-like. It's a surprise!" She smiled impishly. "Desmond, huh?" The kid narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, no thanks." "Huuh? You got a problem with my teammate?" she drawled. "Or, does your whole team hate the second best dessert in the world?" she accused. "Second best?!" he replied. "Uh, yeah? The best is cake, obviously." "What?! No, it's—" He caught himself and facepalmed. "Anyway, beat it, pipsqueak!" Raffaella puffed out her cheek. "Humph! More for me, then!" she pouted as she stormed off.

Her task complete, it was time for the second part of her role in the plan: to hitch a ride with another team. After all, who was going to say no to the cutie? I love the way you think, Tommy! This is why you're the best! Giggling to herself, she looked around as the other teams took off, and her eyes landed on a massive beanstalk. "Oh, wow..." Her eyes glittered with glee. Then, they glazed over as she gave in to her desire for sleep. This was a critical step: by relying on her sleepwalking, she would be harder to detect! However, the plan failed as Raffie met with someone who will say no to a cutie: Edyta Laska. She held out a hand to stop Raffie, and ruffled her hair vigorously, enough to wake her. "No. You've been swept up in enough of your friends' schemes for one day," she scolded gently. "I'm not gonna do anything mean... I really can't come?" she replied with pleading eyes. "No. You may not." The nun refused more firmly the second time. "Be a good girl." She fixed Raffie's hair for her, gave her a tiny strawberry muffin, and shooed her away.

"I really wash jush gonna go to shleep and let it carry me up," she sulked with a mouthful of muffin as she slowly walked back to her team's meeting place. There was nothing for it; she'd just have to ride up with the others. It wasn't all that bad, but it was considerably less cool than riding a magnificent and beautiful giant beanstalk straight out of a fairytale.

Then, Raffaella dropped to her knees.

If it were possible, her face grew even paler than usual. "What... is this..?" she asked no one in particular, trembling. "My manas are... gone? I can't... move..?" Her eyes widened, and her heart pounded as she shook violently. Sweat dripped from her forehead as she started hyperventilating. Already, she was a pale imitation of the real thing. If she stopped being capable of magic altogether... Who would I be? she realized.

Then, a familiar face snatched her up. "Zazzy!" Raffie breathed. She grabbed Raffie and fled, far out of range of whatever was affecting her—it was Command magic, but that was a conversation for another day. Right now, they needed to win, and win big! The Raffscallions took 7th place, which, in some circles, would be considered winning big.

The Hourglass Order

...Someone Gets Hurt

---

---

The Goddess's Blood Runs Red

“The woes of the hax'doiyap,”

That pitch, that voice. Xiuyang had let her guard down on that evening, and the lurking spider wasted no time in seizing its chance. “and the stomach churning cope they spew. Fuck-” she was sitting on a rooftop, appropriately above the Yanii, with a single leg dangling over the edge and her palm supporting her chin. Juulet grinned once her eyes met Xiuyang’s. “never gets old.”

She was chewing something, and by the smell of it some could deduce it was jamb’syp. The glob of brown saliva she spat out after a brief moment of heavy silence confirmed it. “You know what? I don’t buy that shit one bit. I don’t buy that there aren’t good enough dicks here for your scrawny, mudblood Yanii ass.” she leaned forward, and in an instant, she was standing a few metres before Salomé, balanced on one bare foot.

“I bet it’s something else. That something is totally, and utterly fucked with you. And,” she bit her lip. “you’re hoping we would be more understanding. Is that it? Acceptance, little Yanii with a hideous secret, hmmm?” she hopped half a metre closer.

Xiuyang's eyes snapped open, and she sobered herself in an instant. Several emotions flickered in her eyes: first surprise, then fear, then what was probably a businesslike smile. Then, a shrug, and a smile of rueful acceptance. "The truth is always the most effective punchline, isn't it?" she replied, with a level of maturity that she probably couldn't have managed without borrowing her mother's voice.

She sat up, and opened a hole in the roof of her dorm room with Binding magic. Out came two wine glasses and a bar cloth, and she set to work cleaning the lip of her gourd for her esteemed "guest." "It's true. I found acceptance with a select few of the Yasoi'riimel, and I clung desperately to it. I'd partly realized it myself, but when you put it so bluntly... I've done nothing of any tangible benefit to them. Your underlying, unspoken assumption that I am 'settling' for the yasoi is wrong; I prefer their company over most yanii. I won't deny the rest." She poured drinks for herself and Juulet.

"...but I'm delaying the inevitable." She shrugged. "Might we speak candidly of my transgressions? I'd rather atone, and be a chip in your pile, than a stain on your boot; but the lever is yours to turn. To which side would you lean: are the yanii inferior but useful creatures, or would Sipenta be better off without them?"

She took a long, long drink from her glass. Her drink tasted like sour grapes. Juulet's was much better, if she deigned to grace a drink poured by a yanii with her lips. There was sincerity in Xiuyang's voice; it didn't seem to be a trick question, but a genuine one.

Mid-way through Xiuyang's answer, an obnoxiously loud yawn was ripped out with exaggerated arm stretches. “Leave it to a fucking Yanii to tell you their whole life story on a rhetorical question.” she exhaled loudly from her nostrils, almost as if steam was erupting from her nose. “Truth is I don't care why you tree ride. I just wanna know what makes you so repulsive to your own kind that you gotta cope the way you do.” another hop was taken, and the gap between the two closed even more.

"Right. If I get the chance to write an autobiography, I'll keep it short," she japed with as much good nature as she could, given the circumstances—and took another nice, long drink from her gourd, as though she understood that it was likely her last.

“There are no politics here, girl. No hate for the sake for hatin'. Nah, as fun as it is, it's a waste of my divine time.” she clicked her tongue a couple of times, eyes wide in increasingly crazed. “My only problem right now is you. You took something I wanted. Something real nice, and continued to be a cunt about it too.” she shook her head. “I'm going to do something bad to you, Salami. Pretty damn nasty. Absolutely revolting.” a third hop. She clasped her hands together and took a moment to admire any emotion that was coursing through Xiuyang's being and inevitable manifested deep in her eyes.

“But first, that mask ...” she raised a hand and wiggled her fingers, telegraphing a clear desire to touch, and given her past inclinations, likely seize too. “What's under there?”

As she listened to Juulet, her eyes could have been described by some as slightly hopeful at first. Then, slightly confused: continued to be a cunt about it? When? Every muscle in her body tensed. As Juulet drew closer, the night air started to feel colder. Her skin crawled as she repeated herself for emphasis. It wasn't the night air—it was those mad eyes.

Xiuyang's body shook, her voice only coming out smooth and even on account of her mask. "Nothing worth your divine time. Just another forgettable face."

♫

Crash.

Another object flew up from the fresh hole in the roof: the Staff of the Burning Monkey King. It crashed into the drink Xiuyang had offered Juulet, which went ignored. Both were showered in booze and broken glass.

By the time the dust settled, Xiuyang was already running across the rooftops, staff in hand. "I should be flattered that you're curious about it, but it's the one thing I won't show to anyone!"

The shattered glass and spreading fluids froze mid-air when they got within Juulet's bubble. And they then converged into a single point, until they reformed the glass with only slight entropy to its overall form. She tossed the actual drink once the glass landed on her palm and took a sip of the non-existing drink. “Good, I was scared this would become some boring ass attempt at a debate.” she rocketed after the fleeing girl with monkey-like agility.

It was clear Juulet was the fastest of the two, and if it weren't for her inclination to play with her food, she would already be breathing onto Xiuyang's nape. Instead, she 'detonated' air mines in Xiuyang's path, most missing but the debris wasn't so easily avoided. “You're nimble for a Yanii! Did Ashy teach ya'?! Wow!” she wasn't flying and instead hopped from roof to roof with uttered 'boing's in each jump. “Tell you what! Give me that mask, and I won't make you eat your hat!” she laughed maniacally.

And after the final mine detonated right before the Revidian prey, appeared Juulet half a metre before her. Hard as a wall and immovable by any collision.

Xiuyang staggered and almost tripped; perhaps she didn't sober herself up as well as she thought. Several expletives were uttered as she defended against the debris, twirling her staff and dodging two more mines. She knew Juulet was toying with her, but she wouldn't let it break her. She'd take every chance she was given, even from the hands of someone who hated her.

She did manage to stop in time to not run straight into Juulet. Truthfully, she might have given in to any other demand she could have thrown at her, but she would rather die than show her face—not that she'd tempt her by saying it out loud. She pivots, using her staff and what little kinetic she could muster to fling herself onto another series of rooftops. She wasn't making good time.

Juulet rolled her eyes. “So defiant. It's that bad, huh?” she didn't sprint just yet and watched Xiuyang go. “Depriving me of what I want ...” and suddenly, she was up above, right ontop of the fleeing Revidian girl. “Makes me crave it all the more.” her grin matched her mad eyes.

The Yasoi then dived into her prey, still abusing temporal magic as much as she could, to make it as seamless as possible for herself. “MINE!”

As Juulet bore down on her, Xiuyang drew. She drew as much as she could—perhaps more than she ever did, including during last year's trials. She was stronger than she let on under most circumstances, and perhaps even more than she herself realized.

With madness briefly flashing in her own eyes as well, she twirled her staff, and managed to actually repel Juulet's strike. By the look in her eyes, she didn't expect to do that—might not have even wanted to do that. For the first time that night, her eyes showed true, life and death terror. She inhaled, and screamed, with the benefit of her mask's audio projections. The ear-piercing sound traveled far and rattled nearby windows. She knew she could never outrun Juulet, and her greatest attack only managed to deflect her bare hand. She had no good options. She needed someone to save her.

Missed. Her right hand pierced right into the roof after being deflected by the unusually sturdy stick. The burning rage in Juulet's eyes were contrasted with the adrenaline-filled glee she was experiencing from the anticipation of getting her reward. An absolutely destructive combo worthy of the moniker of Mad Avatar.

“Screaming for help?!” she shouted back as the plea reverberated through her and the whole neighborhood. Many lamps turned on, people stepped out of their homes and lamplighters were surely nearby. “I'll make you regret that.” she venomously spat out right as a temporal tear formed behind Xiuyang. A portal, one leading into a dark and cold place.

She then charged, rocketed forward with her Arcane mastery over simple kinetic.

Xiuyang tried to mount a defense, anchoring herself in place with kinetic and binding, also using binding to form a shield enhanced with explosive chemicals. However, it was not enough. She was easily thrown into the portal and sent flying, tumbling through the grass. Her heart raced incomprehensibly fast. She almost hoped she would just have a heart attack and die right now, but then the whole school would see her corpse. Or, perhaps, just Juulet would. She couldn't be sure if her body would last, or if she'd even be discovered.

Only when her body stopped tumbling did her life stop flashing before her eyes, rapid and morbid thoughts swirling as time slowed to a crawl. She forced herself to her feet, enduring fireworks of agony from her broken ribs with every breath—but still, she could stand. She could not, however, run. Run where?

Her only option now was to fight. She drew again, but her reduced drawing speed was catching up to her. With binding and kinetic, she created a small sandstorm around her, then used arcane pyromancy to turn it into a storm of glass. She hurled it at Juulet with a silent prayer to Eshiran for deliverance.

Eshiran heard her call.

Juulet zipped through the portal as it closed right behind her with Xiuyang ragdolled into the lake's beach. They were seemingly nowhere, although to those familiar with the area, they would know they weren't too far from the city. “Yes, squirm little worm.” she straightened herself, bemused by the attempts at survival by the Revidian. However, little did the Avatar know ...

Eshiran answered her call.

“Child's play.” she extended an arm out and aggressively drew the heat Xiuyang was conjuring. But then came the sands, and then the glass. What was supposed to be a show of strength to bring complete and utter despair backfired. In an instant, her hand was pierced in multiple areas by the sharp glass. And then her whole arm. “Something like this ...” her eyes widened, but she did not panic just yet. Both her arms were extended, and this time she used blood magic mixed with a burning aura to surround her being. “Can't do shit to a Goddess!”

But the storm didn't stop. Something much bigger than some Yanii could naturally make. “Something as low as this ... Will Not-!” she had to dig her foot into the earth just to not completely falter and be taken by the storm.

“Something. Such as. THIS!” the storm pierced through, and her maddened grimace twisted into pain and unrefined fury. She vanished into the storm after letting a final, furious screech that echoed through the surrounding forest.

Xiuyang stood frozen, eyes partially shut, expecting her unfocused and desperate spell to fail. It was experimental and hadn't even been perfected yet; she only threw it out for lack of any other ideas. She was sure she had messed it up in at least one stage. It shouldn't have done anything to Juulet.

She glanced around, her whole body shaking like a leaf. She looked for Juulet in wide-eyed panic. In a rare moment of clarity, she looked for a savior, who surely empowered her attack or weakened Juulet's in some fashion to make this happen.

It got quiet. Calm waters climbed to the short and withdrew with the softest of sounds. There was nothing after that scream and the subsiding of the storm. Just Xiuyang, alone and cold. For a moment it almost felt like it was over.

But she and the Gods knew this wasn't the end. What was a simple combination of spells to an avid time abuser?

Juulet manifested right in front of Xiuyang, bloodied with her left eye kept shut while the other remained partially concealed behind her dark and dirty locks. Her whole attire was ripped to shreds and her skin did not fare much better.

♫

Immediately she went for the throat, squeezed and lifted the smaller girl only to slam her down to the ground, flat on her back. A few bones were going to go there.

“You've caused a Goddess to bleed.” she spoke in what was perhaps the most collected manner Salomé had seen yet. In her deep rage, she had found some sort of clarity. “I should kill you. I want to kill you. Sacrifice you. Tarnish you. Wear your skin and decorate my hall with your skull. Not before doing so many bad things.” the more she spoke, the more her panting because audible. She almost drooled in her long-winded hateful speech. “But in my infinite generosity, I found a better idea.”

She let go the throat and instead went for the Revidian's hair. As she stood, the badly wounded Xiuyang was made to rise with her until she was off her feet and hanging a centimetre above the dirt. “First, though, what I came here to do.” She readied her idle hand, formed a fist, and bashed it into the human's face. Over and over, with only half of them fully stifled by a last ditch effort to use magic. “C'mon. Take it off and I'll stop. I won't even make you say uncle. Promise. Do it. Now.”

Despite having her throat crushed by Juulet, the ever-present mask dutifully projected the would-be sounds of her desperate attempts to breathe. Only with the totality of her magic was she able to barely cling to life. As Juulet slammed her to the ground, a light seemed to go out in her eyes. This was a woman who knew she was dead. She didn't even bother to scream a second time. Instead, she focused all of her energy on preserving the integrity of her mask. She wasn't even thinking about why she was doing it—out of spite, perhaps?

Though she saw no beauty in herself, she saw it in the yasoi, and had tried to support them. Though she was a fool, she tried to learn from her transgressions. Though she felt herself of little worth—just another rich brat leeching off the lower class—she tried to find the value in it. Though she'd been a coward, she tried to make a stand. Though the scales of her heart were weighted with bias, she tried to give Juulet a chance. Though she believed the rumors about Xiuyang at face value, she'd tried to be better.

The gods would not reward her efforts.

Not in this life.

In the end, she'd made Juulet bleed. Perhaps that was the greatest achievement of her life, though she wouldn't dare say it. She couldn't do anything to stop her now. She couldn't even lift her arms up to remove the mask with her own hands. With a touch of kinetic, it gave a final, weak hiss, and dropped to the ground.

Juulet saw it: the true face of Xiuyang Solari.

There was a glow in Juulet's one open eye. A glint you'd see on a child when they tore open a gift to find out what it was. Finally, this inconsequential enigma was going to be answered. And once she found it ...

She stared blankly. The corner of her eye twitched.

“Is this a joke?” she slapped Xiuyang's temple like she was some sort of broken contraption. “A trick? What the fuck? I leave that pit only to find more of this?!”

Then, she snorted like a young porcine cub. “Fuck.” she sat upon Xiuyang's ribs, certainly damaged after the previous impact, and slapped her own bloodied forehead. “Yanii. Yasoi. Hegelan. Hells, even the slithering fucks could never love something like this. Holy fucking fuck balls.” she laughed, viciously. The intent was to hurt, and the revulsion was hardly hidden. She barely held back some stomach acids from rising. “Killing you would be a pity.” she said softly, but the venom never left her voice. “And as a generous Goddess, I'll grant you your one, true wish.”

Right below them, another portal opened. They were now suspended above it, with Juulet holding Xiuyang with her one good leg. “I'll give you a chance at acceptance. Among those that best suit you. Oh yes.” a wicked grin took form.

Below her, Xiuyang could feel a slightly warmer air - a tad drier than the shore they were at. It smelled like bark and distant smoke. What she could sense were vague humanoid forms huddled up together with wildly unusual energy signatures.

“Fare you well, pathetic little Salami.” Juulet scoffed before letting go. Xiuyang fell into the unknown - far, far away from the familiar. “Fare you well.”

Xiuyang's eyes met Juulet's, and for perhaps a fraction of a second, there was pity for the remains of her twisted mind, buried under the distorted facsimile of childlike innocence. But then, she looked at her like she was a thing—a dangerous thing the Zenos of Ersand'Enise had allowed to exist, to walk and talk and pretend to be something resembling a human being. No; she was a feral beast, put on a pedestal and worshipped by misguided fools—given a taste for yanii suffering and death, and in the end, she, the victim of this unreasonable creature, would be the one blamed for the events of this night, by those that had created this monster.

Another portal opened, but Xiuyang's eyes offered no further terror or despair for Juulet to feed on. A profoundly cosmic acceptance washed over her, as if her soul had already left her body. Juulet had promised something "absolutely revolting," and the implications of those words were not lost on Xiuyang. From the moment those words exited her mouth, perhaps, she had expected this kind of fate.

Juulet closed the portal, extinguishing the light cast by the moon of Ipte and the stars above.

Xiuyang hoped the impact would finish her off.

Instead, the canopy of treetops battered her already-broken body even further. Branches tangled with clothes, and her body settled somewhere halfway up into the trees, cradled by her own robe as if it were a hammock. Her neck hung at an odd angle, but it wasn't yet broken. For a moment, the spot felt strangely comfortable, and sleep tempted her.

However, now that she had some measure of control over the situation once more, her will to live came back from the depths and roused her, demanding immediate action. There were humanoid shapes down below, whispering amongst one another. Six yasoi, alerted to the sound of her fall, but none of them seemingly convinced that it was worth checking out.

Hours passed as Xiuyang slowly healed only the most critical injuries, using only the most subtle binding magic she could manage—the kind of magic even wild creatures could use. Right now, all she needed was to be able to move away from this group. Once she was capable, she pushed through the agony and forced herself to climb through the treetops.

One of the yasoi was slowly stalking her.

Once they were out of earshot of the other five yasoi, hunter and prey simultaneously decided to run. Xiuyang was as slow as ever, and he was fast—fast, but weak. He threw out an attack that should have been child's play for Xiuyang. She barely managed a defense; he struck her face, and she bled. A rage not dissimilar to Juulet's own overtook her. Not because of that pathetic exchange—but because of what she saw.

The beanie's temporal effect showed it to her.

What he would do if he caught her.

Her fists clenched and trembled with rage. "I made your goddess bleed," she snarled. "You are dust."

She drew, and he flinched in fear. Though the two could not understand each other's words, murderous intent was a universal language. "D-Demon..!" he whimpered. "DEMON!!" he shouted, turning to run—but Xiuyang would not let him run. She gave chase, intent on slaughtering him, like the animal he was.

Once more, he was too fast. Xiuyang only sobered from her murderous rage once she realized his allies were coming to back him up. She turned tail and ran, ran from the fate that awaited her if she could not outrun them. She saw it again—she'd trip on a root, and they'd be upon her. Using her temporal precognition, she avoided every obstacle that came her way, while the beasts behind her stumbled over each other to be the first to reach their quarry.

Having lost them for now, she collapsed into a muddy crevice, and covered her favorite robe in dirt to wash out the colors and blend in. Exhausted, cold, alone, and frightened beyond measure, she wondered if she would survive, or if the Zenos would even bother starting an investigation...

The Hourglass Order

All Fun and Games, Until...

---

---

The Cappening

The time came quickly for Xiuyang to choose whether or not to fully trust Ciro Volta. Her original plan for her middling haul of faire tokens was to secure free access to the Silk Gate. Though the Solaris could afford it, it would save no small amount of money. It was at the very least what her family would expect her to spend them on. Now, however, she stood among the crowd of eager students, gleefully parting with their hard-won tokens in exchange for... hats. To be fair, they were magically imbued hats, and their enchantments were not to be scoffed at. It just felt a little silly, on the surface—no, perhaps it was. Students lined up in droves to throw away free tuition, and the empty space between them and the students lining up for other prizes held a palpable negative energy. The gap between the privileged and those scraping by, Xiuyang noted as she stood between the droves of students, looking to either side of her. Never had the student body been more clearly and visibly divided.

After eyeing the prize pool with some scrutiny, Xiuyang threw her hat in the ring, so to speak, and entered the raffle. She came out one of the lucky ones, and managed to snag one of the hats she had her eye on. The Belcher was a suitable prize indeed. She could feel its power, and was just imagining how she might have used it in her battle with Seki and Hitoshi when a familiar face approached her. It was Taleja. She was also wearing what, in some circles, might be considered a hat: the Beanie of Weggosi Relaxation. It was another one of the prizes Xiuyang had her eye on, and Taleja wished to propose a trade. She even boasted—in a manner befitting her, and insultingly accurate besides—that she already knew Xiuyang would agree to it. "Yes, something like this does suit me much better," she remarked as the two exchanged hats, each placing their hat upon the other's head.

As the fabric of the beanie slid over her eyes, Xiuyang found herself disoriented. From her perspective, Taleja had already taken her leave of Xiuyang, and was more than a few feet away. She saw herself take a few steps forward in confusion, adjust her beanie, look around, snicker, then turn to face Taleja in a panic. I'm seeing the future? She moved forward, following the footsteps of her phantom self. It was a bit too much to get acclimated to, right now. Could she turn it off? She adjusted her beanie, then looked around to see... well. With an effect like this, she could probably deliver an inaugural speech as Queen of Torragon. The ladies of Ersand'Enise will be relieved to know that a boy didn't get this, she thought, snickering. Then, she realized. Had Taleja seen her?! She whipped around to face her, but she was already long gone.

Xiuyang would stick around to see what her friends managed to snag, before they could, and tease them with her reactions. Living ten seconds in the future was harder to comprehend than she thought it'd be, but as long as she stood mostly still and ignored as many of her other senses as possible, she could account for the ten second delay in what she was hearing. Fittingly, it was possible with a few meditative techniques to grow accustomed to it for short periods of time. Already, her mind was swimming with the possibilities of how she could use this to her benefit. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Juulet shoving Niallus's head up his own ass with that strange kind of magic Kaureerah had. Everyone's eyes were drawn to Xiuyang as she burst out laughing for seemingly no reason, at what was about to happen. "So that's what she did to Lady Matsuhara! That's hilarious!" she wheezed. Something she wouldn't normally dare say came out so easily, knowing in advance that Niallus would take it like a good sport, and Juulet wouldn't target her next.

What a useful item indeed...

Fait Accompli

The dreaded and anticipated day came—the time to choose her teammates for the Trials. In the first round, her choice came third last, giving her a choice between Ingrid, Talkhan, and Roslyn. Xiuyang was surprised to see Ingrid and Talkhan left to her as options. If her sole objective in the Trials was to win, Talkhan was almost objectively the correct choice. Ingrid was also strong, but a potential wildcard. While she couldn't be completely sure, she had reasonable suspicion that both Valerian and Ingrid were now sanguinaires. Though she could easily imagine how a long life as a sanguinaire could corrupt a soul, she had a much harder time picturing how a brand new one would think and act. Would she be essentially the same person for the time being?

Then, there was Roslyn. An unknown factor in terms of strength, but a friendly one who had been useful during the faire, and her primary concern right now was befriending someone. In the end, Xiuyang chose her, but as she approached, she could immediately tell that something was off. Roslyn wasn't her usual chipper self. Was it a hangover? Her thoughts were interrupted as the time came to choose once more. Xiuyang chose Trypano without a second thought, hardly even considering the other options. She attempted to administer chemical magic to dull the pain in Roslyn's head, but it was to little to no avail. Was it aberration sickness, then? The time to choose again came annoyingly fast. She almost wanted to point at a random face, but then she saw Ciro Volta. The frustration in her eyes immediately vanished, and she waved him over with an invisible but evident smile. On the second attempt, she managed to give Roslyn some reprieve, but it wasn't as effective as she would have liked.

Then came the final choice.

All eyes were on Xiuyang as she was enviably given her first pick. She could have anyone she wanted.

With a deep breath and a trembling hand, she lowered the fabric of her beanie over her eyes, and saw it.

Juulet's face. She was glaring right at her.

It was already decided. It was Fait Accompli.

As she had done in all the previous rounds, Juulet loudly and arrogantly staked her claim on...

"Tyrel," Xiuyang interrupted.

Juulet glared at Xiuyang. Then, however, her face unexpectedly softened as an announcement came; it was time for the various teams to negotiate trades. She traipsed up to Xiuyang. "Oira, suunei!" She smiled sweetly. "For um... obvious reasons, I feel a sense of kinship with Tyrel." She glanced down at her missing leg, beneath her odd pant-skirt-like garment. "Might we trade our picks for the round?" She made a face that looked anxious and a bit sad. "Please....!"

Xiuyang almost cringed at the level of faux desperation. Perhaps, if she had even once earned the right to be called "Suunei" by Juulet, or any yasoi for that matter, she might have relented. She glanced at Tyrel, Juulet's would-be victim—perhaps to strengthen her resolve—then shook her head apologetically, for what little the gesture would be worth. "No offense to Chad, of course," she said, as if that were her worst offense in refusing. Her heart was still pounding in her chest after her bold and very public choice, and it only grew even faster as her perceived offenses against Juulet piled up.

Juulet's right eye twitched for a second. She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to momentarily draw blood. Tyrel and Chad exchanged looks with each other and then the other two. "I will see you on the other side, luush'elar." The former reached for the latter's hands. "I'll kick your ass, luush'elar," teased the latter. Their fingers met, but then Juulet stood in between them. "I'll see you in the games, hax'doiyap," she hissed at Xiuyang, coming inches from her face as her teeth clicked shut with the insult. "You're fucking dead," she snarled, turning on the spot to stalk away. Then, she paused and twisted around. "Well, figuratively, of course," she added with cloying sweetness. She rolled her eyes and continued. "Wouldn't be allowed to actually kill you..." It was barely more than a murmur.

Xiuyang stood her ground while being threatened by Juulet. It was an insult she was used to hearing, and a reaction she expected. Still, it stung. What if most, or even all yasoi reacted to her like this? She shoved the thought aside forcibly. She'd made her choice. In choosing Tyrel, she was sending a message: she was done hiding her support for the yasoi behind a veneer of childish curiosity. Tyrel reached out and squeezed her shoulder, glaring at Juulet's back. "Fucking cunt," she mumbled. Xiuyang snorted, releasing some of the tension. "Thanks for that. They say fortune favors the brave. I'm not very brave, but your support would mean the world to me."

Dubious Dealings

Xiuyang watched as the scene unfolded in front of her: Niallus had chosen Ingrid—and Ingrid wanted nothing to do with him after their breakup. Xiuyang's heartrate had barely settled from the Juulet affair, and the constant state of fight-or-flight had begun to get exhausting. Could the two of them just stop? Close to her other ear, as well, Ciro was questioning why Xiuyang didn't choose Ingrid herself, instead of Roslyn. She was beginning to feel regret, herself, after seeing the state of her. Her regret at being unable to help Roslyn outweighed her regret in choosing her while she was in this state, but the latter was undeniably there, all the same.

She was in a difficult position. On the one hand, she wanted to befriend Tyrel, and showing Tyrel her loyalty to a friend would help in this regard. However, she also wanted to impress Ciro with her quick wits—and she had just thought of something juicy she could do in this moment. Borderline terrible, yes—opportunistic, absolutely—but smart. Again, she consulted her beanie, but this time the results were inconclusive. She'd have to be a bit assertive, and it might not even work. Success or failure, either way she would feel awful about it later, but she had to try.

Xiuyang sighed, and approached Niallus. "Roslyn for Ingrid, if you're having regrets." Roslyn looked down, swallowing her irritation. She knew why Xuiyang was trading her and she couldn't blame her. She felt useless due to the sickness and she was surprise she was picked at all instead just tossed to the last team. "Ciro for her," Niallus countered, pointing at Ingrid. "Denied," she replied flatly. "I'm doing you a favor," she added, buying time. As she watched Niallus's expression change, it was nearly in view... "I mean you no offense," Xiuyang assured Roslyn quietly. "You get along with Niallus too, don't you?" she asked, acting as if she were second guessing her judgment.

"If you wish you may also trade me for Ingrid," Trypano offered to Xiuyang. "No offense to yourself but Roslyn and Ingrid are more likely to operate more effectively than I and Ingrid currently, as you understand." "Yeah..." Roslyn said, but her tone sounded more hurt than she intended. "Honestly, you shouldn't have picked me at all. We both know I'm just going to drag the team down." Xiuyang's heart sunk. While she watched Niallus, Ciro and Tyrel for their reactions, she'd neglected the opinions of the rest of her team. This was quickly turning into a mess. She started to feel glad that, while wearing the beanie, no one could see her eyes.

"I'm willing to put things aside if I don't have to deal with him," Ingrid said as sincerely as she could, "I promise that Trypano." Trypano nodded back, expression unchanged. "Good t'hear. It's all business after all." She seemed to have a bit of a different accent, possibly owing to her new hat.

"I wouldn't trust her," Niallus spat back.

Ingrid held her voice at what he said. She just couldn't with him anymore.

"Guy I'll trade Sven for Ingrid," Niallus tried, turning to him. Guy considered it, but keeping Ingrid on Niallus's team was a guaranteed loss for him, which meant one less team to worry about. "You chose a scorned lover Niallus, and I have no reason to trade," he said politely. "I thought she'd be willing to move past it, but clearly not," Niallus replied. "Offer's still valid," Xiuyang added, pretending to inspect her nails. She knew that her stubbornness was surely being grating by this point, but victory in these hastily and ill-conceived negotiations was finally within sight. Soon, it would finally be over. True to her visions within the beanie, Niallus reluctantly agreed to receive Roslyn for "the bitch."

With negotiations finalized, it was time for damage control. Though, Xiuyang kicked herself mentally for thinking in such cynical terms, when her new friend was clearly hurt by her decision. "You're only a liability if you imagine yourself to be one," Xiuyang whispered to Roslyn, stopping her as she turned to go to Niallus's team. "I don't think of you that way—and if you think I do? Prove me wrong," she said with a fake smile, giving the girl a supportive pat on the back, and a ceremonial "push" towards her new team, The Invisibles.

Roslyn paused when Xuiyang whispered to her, half the wisdom lost due to her hearing issue. But somehow she got the idea of what the masked woman said. Her fingers still clenched her arm as she inhaled, trying to keep her irritation down.

She sighed, "I'll try."

Roslyn hoped the day would end without them being dead last.

Ingrid offered her thanks to Xiuyang. "I promise I will perform the best I can."

"I'm counting on it," Xiuyang replied with a hidden smile. "I know I said I was doing him a favor, but you seemed uncomfortable, and I know you're talented. I'm happy to have you." As she turned away, she winked at Ciro. She'd certainly scored the deal of the day.

"Truly, thank you," Ingrid gave a small smile. It was overly vulnerable to be put in that position. Stuck under your ex who has been turning a private matter into the gossip of the day. She looked at Trypano and contemplated how things turned. "I know I said I won't cause issues but I would like to also get better with how things have been if that's alright."

The Floatmelon Heist

Within the hour, Fait Accompli's plans for the Melon Derby were decided. While the looming terror of Juulet was still fresh in the minds of all, Xiuyang would pretend to cower within the perceived safety of their base. She would join Trypano in digging a tunnel to Dami's Cross, the entrance to which the Sea People would deliver any giant floatmelons they found within the canals of Ersand'Enise. Tyrel and Ingrid would set off on their own misadventures, serving as distractions and grabbing any high-value melons they could find to place inside the floatmelons. If they were lucky, other teams would simply assume that Ciro and Trypano were kept at base to protect Xiuyang from Juulet.

For the most part, the plan went off without a hitch. Ingrid went unopposed and came back with a floatmelon, a grenade melon, many other melons of smaller value, and an interesting message in a bottle. Tyrel acquired a dark melon and attempted to steal some even more valuable melons from Penny, but the one-legged girl somehow managed to fend her off and escape into the safety of Balthazar Hall. Juulet, meanwhile, was obsessed with acquiring the Fat Bastard, leaving Fait Accompli to their own, dubious devices. Once the tunnel was fully constructed, Trypano began dumping the team's rather large number of skunk durians directly into the bases of any unfortunate teams that left their bases fully unattended. Unfortunately, it would be of little effect, due to the unfolding chaos and the resulting sudden termination of the event.

Xiuyang returned to base and set to work producing counterfeit melons, with Ciro as a lookout. In the end, he never left her side during the Melon Derby, not even once. Xiuyang could never guess what exactly gave him so much confidence—in her estimation, she was just slightly stronger than him, as a mage—but his confidence was slowly but surely rubbing off on her. By the end of the Melon Derby, she was starting to think that maybe Juulet wasn't that angry after all. Perhaps the fun of the Melon Derby would take her mind off of things. Could it even be that Juulet had thought it over and understood what Xiuyang was trying to do?

Suddenly, all of the main cathedral's windows glowed an incredibly bright white, as if a lineup of muzzle flashes from the cannons of the Grey Fleet itself had just pierced through the fog of night. Xiuyang couldn't resist the urge to open the curtains and take a look outside. "What the fuck?" she remarked. "I've never seen a student move that fast. Holy shit... Well, that's where Juulet is going to be," she supposed, not knowing that the true Melon Supreme had already been discovered, and this one was a decoy. That was for Ingrid and Tyrel to deal with, at any rate. She returned to her business, continuing to craft melons until... suddenly, there was a massive draw of energy from the King's Ear base, and Xiuyang fainted.

When she came to, Ciro was there to help her to her feet. Thanking him, she tried to stand, but there was another massive draw from nearly the same location. "Gods damn it... What in all the hells is happening outside..?" she groaned, trying to struggle to her feet but failing. Fuck! She had the work of Oraff to do! "No shit the Derby is over! What the hell happened?!" she barked impotently at no one in particular as the announcement came.

Just then, a pair of Eeaiko emerged from the secret entrance of their underground tunnel. Only a pair of them, along with a total of 9 giant floatmelons—a substantial haul that had, by and large, only been brought into the base and collected so that the unconscious bodies of the remaining three Sea People could be rescued from the sewer-adjacent tunnels. At the end of the day, though, a score was a score. With the Zenos allowing all of the students to collect any melons currently in their possession, Tyrel was able to return with the dark melon she had obtained. In total, Fait Accompli was able to achieve a 5th place standing with a final score of 3264. Just one sacred elemelon would have taken them all the way up to 2nd place, with its point value doubled inside a giant floatmelon, of which they had a whopping ten. An unfortunate end to what was, in Xiuyang's less-than-humble opinion, a 1st place winner of a strategy.

At the end of the day, though, they had placed above Vyshta's More Favored, who took 7th place after multiple penalties for use of violence.

Xiuyang would hear that story at a later date, however. Immediately, her focus was on the second event: The Dragon.

Venomous Smiles

After a selection process, it was determined that Fait Accompli would be allied with the Dark Protectors for the Dragon. As soon as this was decided, a Rettanese girl with a rebellious attitude approached Xiuyang. "You and me. Doesn't matter what event, I'll leave you in the fucking dust," Hill's Pond declared, asserting herself immediately. Xiuyang blinked. "I'm sorry, have we met?" she replied in Rettanese. "Nah. Name's Hill's Pond, and what you've got there," she pointed at Xiuyang's hip. "—is Mountain Spring's gourd. It looks ordinary, but I'd know it anywhere. So you're the one who took it!" Xiuyang raised her hands up defensively. "No, he gave it to me. We met during the battle with... Anyway, he gave up alcohol. That's what he told me," she replied. "No way that would ever happen," Hill's Pond retorted, unconvinced. The Dark Protectors' leader, Vigorous Salmon shot her a look, and she stormed off, leaving Xiuyang to ponder their future partnership in the Dragon. It had, apparently, already been decided.

Despite much reflection on the matter, Xiuyang couldn't think of a better alternative. After debating with Ingrid for a while on who should do the thresher-riding leg of the race, they decided that Xiuyang's advantage in the Mushroom Maze was too great to ignore. She gave Ingrid a few pointers on how to handle the animals, and sent her on her way. Now, she stood at the entrance of the maze alongside Hill's Pond, waiting for her turn. "I still don't believe jack shit of what you said," she suddenly piped up. "I heard about what you did in the Melon Derby. Holed up in your base, shakin' in your boots like a coward. You're afraid of a fight, and no doubt. Ain't no fuckin' way you earned Mountain Spring's respect like that," she spat, both figuratively and literally.

"Of course I'm afraid of a fight. Only a fool isn't," Xiuyang replied, earning herself a scoff. "But, when lives are at stake, your body moves on its own. ...I barely remember what I did in ReTan, now. I only know that I killed a man, when I've sworn to avoid doing so as much as I can. I can't tell you what Mountain Spring may or may not have found admirable about me. He was my superior in every way—but, perhaps, we were similar. Maybe he saw himself—a foolish, younger self who has learned much but practiced little, until the day I met him," she finished wistfully. Hill's Pond eyed her suspiciously, but let her speak. "You talk like you know the man," she replied skeptically. "I'd like to think that I do. Who knows? With everything that happened during the fall of the Jiang Dynasty... Maybe this is a family heirloom, and he's the only one in on the joke," she japed. "Only if your ancestor is as much of a big-headed bitch as you!" Hill's Pond screeched back as Xiuyang laughed her ass off.

Finally, it was time. Tyrel and Vigorous Salmon arrived, sending Xiuyang and Hill's Pond on their way. "Go easy on her, Xiuyang!" Salmon called out teasingly. Hill's Pond flipped him off as she ran, determined to beat Xiuyang to the end of the maze. With redundant layers of protection from her mask and Devourer mana type, and additional perception from her beanie, navigating the maze—purportedly the most difficult part of this challenge—was easy for her. The difficult part for her was dealing with other challengers and the local fauna, which she made a point to avoid with her Arcane illusions whenever necessary. She was nearly caught a couple of times but managed to steer clear, and in the end, both girls made it to the finish line, with some time-wasting hassle from Desmond. "You're actually... pretty good..." Hill's Pond panted. "But I'll drink you under the table after this! You'll never win!" As if to emphasize the point, she took a drink from her gourd. Xiuyang did the same. Reaching out to gauge how strong of a drink Hill's Pond had using Binding magic, she smirked as she realized it was non-alcoholic. "Sure, we'll have a drinking contest—and if I win, you'll stop trying to steal my gourd!" she declared. Hill's Pond flinched, unaware that Xiuyang knew she was trying. "It's not yours! If I win, I'm taking it!" she retorted.

The two shook hands on it, exchanging venomous smiles. Then, Xiuyang turned her attention to Desmond. The Raffscallions reportedly had a box that Fait Accompli needed to steal. Sure enough, Desmond had a box on him, and without much thought, she stole it, using Blood magic to deconstruct and rebuild it in her hands. It was a simple action that could have been brushed off as a branch of Binding magic, but she still felt a cold chill—guilt, perhaps, at her underhanded tactic? She decided to rebuild the box using Binding magic, with the unsettling feeling that there were eyes on her. In the end, though, nothing came of it. However... she did make a mistake when rebuilding the box. She'd reconstructed the hinges the wrong way, such that the box couldn't be opened. "Not exactly my best work as a carpenter, eh?" she mused, earning a genuine chuckle from Hill's Pond. "Nice job, dumbass." Xiuyang couldn't inspect its contents now, but when she did, she'd be in for a nasty prize from the fake Cherune box.

The Hills Have Eyes

As promised, Xiuyang took Hill's Pond out to drink, at a Mudville tavern both agreed was the place to be. There, they would exchange stories: all of Xiuyang's were, of course, about Mountain Spring, the Black Guard, and the Twin Emperors—anything Hill's Pond was interested in asking about. However, she would never dare say that she was close enough to Cold Soup's demise to feel the shockwaves from Seki's attack. Hill's Pond started with stories about herself and her upbringing, but they were becoming less and less coherent as time went on. It wasn't long before it became obvious who was going to win their drinking contest—though, amazingly, even Xiuyang was just a little bit drunk. She was just about to launch into the story of how she met the Soul Sisters backstage when she felt it: a cold chill.

Eyes. There were eyes on her—angry eyes. She looked around, but didn't see them through the alcoholic haze.

Her instincts told her to run, and her instincts didn't lie. So, she ran, and sure enough, footsteps followed her—familiar footsteps—and they didn't belong to Hill's Pond. Soon, an equally, dreadfully familiar hand grabbed her by the collar.

"Would you spare a moment of your precious time for me?" the man asked impatiently.

"Fuck! No!" Xiuyang spat as she struggled.

"Don't raise your mother's voice to me, you rebellious girl!" he rattled off, pinning her against a wall.

"Uh, 'scuse me..." a very, very drunk Hill's Pond interrupted, staggering along. "Izzat man, (hup!) ...botherin' you, Xiu?" she asked, drawing heat from the air threateningly. Though in this state she was almost entirely inept, it seemed to intimidate the man just slightly. "...He's my father," Xiuyang confessed, after a pause. "...Oh," Pond replied, blankly. "...OHH!" she repeated, as if it were suddenly making sense. "So it's like that, is it?! Well, come, (hup!) ...get some, abusive dad-guy!" she cried, throwing herself at the ground. Well, she tried to throw herself at Mr. Solari. He clicked his tongue. "Look at you, hanging about with this filth—and that one-legged yasoi girl! You should know better, Salome! You should know what that looks like!"

"I know perfectly well what it looks like!" Xiuyang fought back, raising her hand against an incoming slap. "I've never once let you down, have I?! You've never demanded to know what I'm up to, until recently! You used to just trust me, let me do things! What happened?! Why the sudden change of heart, giving the company to Maria?!" she demanded. Her father's eyes widened; he looked like he was going to ask who told her that. Then, he narrowed them, ignoring that concern for the moment. He looked into the eyes of his smug daughter, confident that she knew more than he thought she did, and that somehow meant she knew better. "This school has changed you—much for the worse," he judged. "What do you know?! I've accomplished so much here!" she countered. "Accomplished what, Salome?! Tell me, if you're so clever, why you never write to us of matters concerning anything but the present?!"

"Stop calling me that," Xiuyang growled. "I know you only care about passing your legacy on. You're only interested in my marriage prospects." Tears welled up in her eyes. "It's your future at stake, Salome. Dark and difficult times are ahead. Hard times are survived only by hard men. I know you know this. Your brothers-in-law—they are wealthy, but weak. I had hoped you could find better, here. Clearly, I was mistaken. ...Come home, Xiuyang," he pleaded. "We both know what's about to happen. If no man here will have you, let your mother and I protect you instead."

"...I have a boyfriend, though," Xiuyang replied, feigning confusion. "If you mean that redheaded—" he began angrily, but Xiuyang cut him off. "Not him. We're close, but... he's just a friend," she forced. "...Then who?" he prompted, his tone confused but encouraging. Xiuyang drew a breath.

"...Ciro Volta," she replied.

---

In the end, Cosimo and Salome Solari talked, for the first time since ReTan. She shared a hollow laugh with her father about how Maria's husband was a doormat, and Desi's husband let her spend their money lavishly on frivolous things. Xiuyang, he assured her, knew what a good man was. She agreed, reassuring him that Ciro was strong but kind, and very market savvy. In fact, the two of them together could one day be the wealthiest merchants in all of Constantia! She tickled his ears with whatever he wanted to hear and sent him away with a hug, presumably to try and dig up some more information on Ciro. Truthfully, she was glad that he would. Where Le Volpi failed, perhaps the head of the Solari family might succeed. Sadly, she wasn't confident that it would result in what she wanted, more than anything: to stay at Ersand'Enise. With her mind swimming with new things to think about, and her heart still semi-racing in that unsettled way it always did after awkward and unwanted conversation, she laid on a rooftop under the stars.

"...Now I've really done it," she sighed. "Suppose I'll have to apologize to Ciro for lying about that, after my dad inevitably gives him some long-winded, excruciatingly boring lecture about how he's not good enough," she muttered to herself, taking a cynical drink from her gourd. She snickered a little, imagining a very confused Ciro patiently listening and taking it all in stride with his winsome smile. "What a... m-mess..." she yawned.